


Paper Boats

by Dragons4ever



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Demons, Drug Use, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragons4ever/pseuds/Dragons4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of grief, Soul Evans awakens to discover that while intoxicated he managed to summon a powerful demon...to be his friend. Maka is friendly and compassionate, but there is something haunting her, something that scares and intrigues him. Amidst the trials of life, Soul can't help but be drawn to the demon woman. But when a figure from Maka's past comes back for revenge, his life is turned upside. Completely.<br/>Resbang 2014 entry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my entry for Resonance Bang (Resbang) 2014, the fic I've been working on since August. I hope you like it!  
> I would like to thank odat for choosing to work with me as my artist. I would also like to thank wediecool, s-puff and amber-lechar for providing support and betaing this story. I would particularly like to thank all the Resbang mods for all the work they did in bringing this event together and organizing everything.
> 
> Full warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol use, mentioned minor and major character death, major character death, demons, mentions of sex, foul language, grief, violence. Read at your own discretion.

            Soul woke with his head pounding and throat dry

            He had only done it a handful of times in high school, and then once (well, twice now) since _that_ April, but he still knew the hangovers caused by a weed-alcohol mix intimately. It had been a bad decision, especially so early into the new academic year, but last night had been bad. Worse than it had been for a while in all honesty.

            He groaned and covered his eyes to block the light from his windows. Fucking shit, he should have closed the blinds the night before. His temples throbbed and he tried to rub out his eyes.

            “Oh,” a feminine voice suddenly said from his bedroom doorway. He stiffened and held his breath. “So you are finally awake.”

            Did he...!

            He jerked upright, regretting it instantly as his vision darkened and his head swam. Once his sight returned and his head stopped spinning, he blinked and looked at the woman in his doorway.

            She was blonde, ash-blonde, that was the first thing he noticed. Then he noticed the horns protruding from the crown of her head, the tail that flicked from side to side behind her, and finally, that she was wearing _absolutely nothing_.

            “What the fuck!?” he yelped, jerking back so his back was pressed against the headboard. “Who are you?”

            The woman blinked at him and slowly walked towards him. Frantically, he tried to back away even more, even though he was stuck against the headboard. Her face softened as she sat down on the edge of her bed, looking almost sad and almost in pain.

            “Do you not remember?” she asked softly.

            “I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” he snapped, focusing on her eyes (greengreengreen, _glowing_ green) instead of on her naked chest.

            The woman sighed but did not look away. “I suppose I should have expected this, given how intoxicated you were.”

            “L-look,” Soul stammered, gritting his teeth at his lost cool and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know what happened last night. So _please_ just tell me what happened.” He took a deep breath and scrunched his eyes closed. “And, ah, put some damn clothes on.”

            The woman sighed again. “As you wish.” She snapped her fingers and there was a small ‘puff’ sound. “I am clothed. You may open your eyes.”

            Before he could really think it through, he opened his eyes and looked at her to find her...wearing a fancy black dress. The dress itself was strapless and looked like it went down past her knees, pooling on his bed sheets. She also wore a pair of black gloves that went up past her elbows and looked to be made of velvet. Her hair was suddenly done up in two pigtails, tied with black ribbons.

            Soul gaped a little. Had he taken acid instead of weed last night?

            The woman smiled a little as she caught his eyes and folded her hands in her lap. “Does this satisfy you?”

            “I, ah, I mean, I guess?” he said, running a hand through his shaggy white hair. “’s a nice dress,” he added in a murmur.

            Her expression became a little sad again and she nodded. “Thank you.”

            They were silent for a moment and Soul shifted awkwardly, grimacing slightly at the grimy feel of his clothes, the same ones he had worn the day before.

            “So...what happened?” he finally asked.

            Her mouth tipped up in a dry smile. “You became intoxicated and summoned me.”

            He tried to speak for a moment but his mouth moved without sound. Then he took a deep breath, rubbed his temples, and said in a higher-than-should-be-possible squeak, “C-come again?”

            “You. Summoned. Me,” the woman-demon-whatever repeated slowly, smile fading. “To be your friend.”

            “Hold on, _what_? To be my _friend_? I _have_ friends, I don’t need a, uh-"

            “Demon,” she interrupted.

            “I don’t need a demon to be my friend, so you can just, uh, leave and get on with whatever it is demons usually do,” he snapped.

            “Well, while I am glad you do indeed have friends, I am afraid I cannot leave just yet,” the demon lady said grimly, rising from the bed to stand over him. He had to admit, it was quite intimidating.

            But he did not let on that she bothered him, or at least he tried to. “ _Why?_ ”

            “ _Because_ ,” she began, taking on the tone mothers used with children who asked stupid questions as she leaned over him. “The payment for my summoning was _your_ _soul_. So unless you want me to take your soul right now and put it through all the tortures of hell for wasting my time, you will have to put with me until the deal has been completed.”

            Soul gulped and shrunk back a little. “And when will that be?”

            The demon-woman took a deep breath and straightened. “Five years.”

            “What the fuck! _Five years_!”

            She looked almost amused by his outrage. “Yes, that was what you asked for.” Then her face scrunched up in concern. “Do you truly not remember?”

            He spluttered a little and waved one of his hands around in desperation. “We-well, _no_.” His hand fell over his eyes and he began to mumble to himself, “Shit, stuck with a demon for five years. Oh fuck, this is something else. You’ve done it Evans, finally fucking lost your mind, didn’t take long.” He suddenly laughed a little, high and hysterical, and clamped a hand over his mouth. “I’ve snapped, I’m crazy, ahaha, oh my god, Blake’s gonna kill me.”

            “I assure you, Soul, you have not gone insane, it is actually physically impossible for you to lose your mind in my presence,” the demon-lady said sternly.

            “Oh, and how’s that?” he asked incredulously. “I thought demons were all about corrupting innocent souls, making them go insane and do bad things or whatever? And how do you know my name?”

            She scoffed and crossed her arms. “There are only some demons that do that, and that is because that is their designated job. Demons are actually responsible for collecting souls that have passed on to be judged and sent for whatever type of afterlife they need.” She smirked a little and added, “You humans are so ridiculous, all your silly superstitions you will cause wars for and none of them are even right.”

            He glared at her, slightly personally offended even though he had never really liked church. “You didn’t answer my other question.”

            She looked taken aback for a moment before she smoothed her expression into a tight smile. “You had to speak your name when you summoned me. That is how I know.”

            He regarded her suspiciously for a moment, then sighed in resignation. “So, what? Are we stuck with each other every day for the next five years?”

            She huffed a little laugh through her nose and smiled. “Not quite, I cannot be with you every day for I am needed in Hell to run my realm, but most days, I think, I will be able to be with you.”

            Soul raised a pale eyebrow. “So, what, are you someone important in Hell?”

            She puffed up a little and grinned. “I am Maka, Lady of Hell, the Right Hand of Lord Death, His Avenging Angel, Reaper of Warriors.” She continued to speak but she no longer spoke English, instead some strange language full of sharp sounds, drawn out vowels and harsh clicks.

            He blinked at her. “Sorry, I don’t speak devil, repeat the last part?”

            She bristled a little. “My apologies, I forgot myself, mortals are forbidden from hearing the last part.”

            “Right,” he said, drawing the ‘i’ sound out. He then sighed and waved his hand at her. “Whatever, can you just, uh, go wait in the living room or something, I need to shower and get changed, I have work in—” he glanced at his bedside alarm clock “—two hours.”

            The demon-lady-called-Maka studied him for a moment and then shrugged, tilting her chin up afterwards proudly. “No need, I am needed in Hell presently. I shall return in a couple of days.” She took a couple of steps back. “Until then, Soul.”

            Then she snapped her fingers and disappeared in burst of smoke and thunder, making Soul yelp and jump back again, nearly falling off his bed. Once the smoke had disappeared, he stared at the place she had stood and found no trace of her.

            Rubbing his head he pulled back his bed covers and stumbled out of bed and into his bathroom. As much as he actually wanted to believe in demons appearing and disappearing with a snap of their fingers so that he was not actually insane, he still could not quite find it in himself to rule out the possibility of having finally gone crazy.

            As he shuffled out of his gross-ass clothes and jumped in the shower, cranking the knob until it was nearly boiling hot, he decided that he was not going to do anything rash (like commit himself to an asylum) until anything else crazy happened.

* * *

             An hour and a half later the bell above the store door tinkled as Soul pushed it open, gratefully inhaling the smell of dust and something he would always associate with vinyl records.

            The dark skinned man from behind the counter waved at him. “Yo, Soul, you’re early! What happened, bed-mate kick you out?” He waggled his eyes at Soul and grinned when the other man scoffed.

            “Well hi to you too, Kilik,” Soul said, waving as well. As he walked through the aisles of CDs and records towards the counter he continued, “And you know I’m into that one-night stand shit.”

            Kilik smirked and shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing out.”

            Soul scoffed as he lifted the part of the counter on a hinge. “You don’t either, your brother and sister live with you.”

            “Not all the time,” the other man said. At Soul’s pointed look he added, “Like, ninety-five percent of the time, but not _all_ the time. Mom gets them some time.”

            “I’m sure,” the albino man said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

            Kilik scanned the store and then followed him into the back once he had made sure the shop was empty.

            “How was your night anyway? ‘cuz, no offense, but you _do_ kinda look like shit,” Kilik said as he heaved himself on top of the break table, watching as Soul moved around the room, signing himself in and turning on the coffee machine.

            Soul grimaced a little, picturing the bags under his eyes he had just about seen in the mirror before he left his apartment. His hair was probably also more a mess than usual but he could not find it in himself to care all that much. But then that was pretty usual for him.

            “Ehh,” he mumbled. “Not that great.” It was the truth but vague enough not to make him sound crazy. Or depressed. Or both. Which he might have been.

            “Like, how ‘not great’?” Kilik pressed.

            Soul turned to look at him with the intention of telling him to piss off, but the concern on his face threw him off. It reminded him so much of Wes which brought up so many painful memories that he did not even want to think of at any time of day, let alone at work, so he quickly looked away.

            However, the memories were enough to force the truth out him.

            “Like _really_ not great,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes stung a little. “Like, _really, really_ not great.”

            He could practically _feel_ Kilik about to question him further, and he tensed up. To his ever-lasting relief, the bell at the front door jingled, signalling a customer. He turned back to the coffee machine, focusing on that and ignoring Kilik’s burning stare into his back and subsequent sigh before he walked out.

            Soul’s shoulders slumped a little as he relaxed. As much as he liked Kilik, and as comfortable as he had become with the other man, he did not exactly want to talk to him about his deceased older brother. And then cry all over him because thinking about his deceased older brother was one sure fire way to get him to break down.

            With this in mind, as soon as Kilik had dealt with the customer and come back into the break-room, Soul immediately turned the discussion towards the other man’s travelling mother and the two jobs he had to take on to support his younger siblings.

            This was sufficient distraction between customers until Kilik had to sign off.

            He felt slightly bad that he was so relieved to keep things hidden. Maybe this was why he had summoned a demon. Sure, he had friends, but he did not have _friends_. At least _friends_ that were still around.

            As he rinsed out a coffee mug and puttered around the back, waiting for another customer, he made up his mind to call Blake when he got home. Sure, the guy was thirteen hours away by plane and apparently living it up in Tokyo, but he had sworn (almost in blood) to always answer a skype call.

            At a rational time of course.

            Soul smiled a little. Perhaps he just need the demon lady to remind that he had friends.


	2. Chapter 2

            It was a Tuesday afternoon, practice time for the piano his parents had gifted him (read: guilt-tripped him into taking with him to college). Although it had been a nuisance while he was in dorms the first year, he had to admit that nowadays he was glad they had forced it on him. It meant he could keep his practice sessions within the privacy of his own apartment.

            He had already spent a good hour in front of the damned instrument, trying to get past this particular part of the piece he was composing, but his brain did not want to give him anything that would just _fit_.

            He ran through the song again and tried out something new at the bit he was struggling with. It was full of ringing chords that clashed together to create a chaotic harmony. His father would have hated it which just made his slightly deranged grin wider as he played.

            He finished and ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t fit right,” he mumbled to himself but scribbled the little bit he had improvised on a scrap piece of paper to be used at a later stage.

            Suddenly there was exuberant clapping from behind him. He whirled round and came face to face with the demon-lady he had summoned three days before. She was wearing the same black dress, heels as well, hair still done up in pigtails. He briefly wondered if demons ever changed clothes.

            “What are you doing here!?” he exclaimed angrily.

            She raised an eyebrow. “I said I would return in a couple of days. So, here I am.”

            He scowled. “You could at least knock. Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

            She scoffed and strode towards him, heels making no sound on the carpet of his study/music room. “I would have thought my appearance in your main room was loud enough but apparently it was not. Or you are suffering premature hearing problems? I know those are prevalent in older humans.” She stopped next to the piano and put her hands on her hips. “What song were you playing?”

            His scowl darkened. “None of your business,” he snapped.

            She sighed and shook her head. “If you do not wish to share it with me, that is fine. I just thought that that was what human friends did. Forgive me.” Then she smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. “Nonetheless, it was a beautiful piece of music and I would love to hear it again, if you would oblige me.”

            “Wut,” he said, blinking up at her. “N-no, it’s, fuck—” He stopped himself and took a breath. “It’s a piece I’m composing myself. It’s not finished yet though, it still needs work.” He looked down at the various pieces of paper spread across the top of the piano. “ _A_ _lot_ of work.”

            Maka cocked her head to the side and studied the ivory keys he still laid his hand on. “I...do not understand much about human music, for demon music is very different,” she said slowly. “However, I do know that the sounds you made this instrument produce were beautiful and that if you created this song, then you are very talented. I stand by what I said, I would love to hear it again.”

            Soul was dumbfounded for a moment, staring up at her genuinely happy expression in surprise. Then he chuckled, shook his head tiredly and pulled the keys’ cover back down. “I don’t know what music you listen to in hell, but it must be shit if you think my crap is any good.”

            She huffed. “I shall ignore the insult you just laid against my whole race and believe it just because you do not feel comfortable taking compliments.” Her eyes roamed around his room as she muttered in that same strange language she had used on Saturday.

            “Whatever,” he mumbled, stretching his arms up and cracking his back before standing from the piano stool and checking his watch. “I should get something to eat.”

            “Why don’t we go out together for a meal?” she suggested. When he looked at her and blinked with a slightly gaping mouth she added, “That is what human friends do, is it not? ‘Hang out’?” She even added quotation marks around her last two words.

            He pulled a series of faces as he ran a hand through his hair. “I...guess?” Then he eyed her dress and other...inhuman aspects warily. “But you’re gonna hafta change how you look if you don’t wanna cause a panic. Or, like, hide your tail and horns or whatever...” He trailed off awkwardly, unsure how else to say it.

            She looked down at her dress. “I understand why I must hide my tail and my horns, but what is wrong with my dress? It is not immodest for twenty-first century humans, nor is it too outdated.” She looked back up at him and clenched some of the skirts in her fists, face taking on that same, slightly sad look as it had on Saturday. “Do _you_ not like it?”

            Soul groaned lightly under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that, it’s just, well, you look way too over-dressed for a burger joint, which is all I’m gonna be able to afford. Like, just some jeans and t-shirt would be fine you don’t have to wear—” he waved at her dress and gloves “—all that fancy stuff.”

            “Oh.” Her gaze moved between her dress and the clothes he was wearing a few times, eyebrows scrunched together in thought. “Alright then.” Then, just like on Saturday, she snapped her fingers.

            Smoke suddenly surrounded her body, twisting and dancing around her figure before dissipating as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the demon standing there in jeans, t-shirt and cardigan combo which actually looked...pretty cute in Soul’s opinion, if he ignored the fact that she still had horns and a tail.

            He felt her study his face as he appraised her. When he finally raised his gaze to meet hers, she smiled a little and held her hands out slightly.

            “This is satisfactory, yes?” she said.

            “Yeah, that’s fine,” he answered simply.

            Her smile widened with his approval and he found himself almost smiling back. Yeah, for a demon she was pretty cute.

            “But you’ve got to do something about your horns ‘n’…stuff,” he added awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shrugging slightly.

            Her smile did not waver, however as she merely clasped her hands together in front of her and watched him watch her horns shrink into her forehead. Once the horns had gone, he glanced at her waist and saw no sign of a tail moving behind her and he assumed it had shrunk back into her as well.

            “Now that’s just creepy,” he said.

            Maka laughed and shook her head. “You humans are so strange,” she said softly, almost as if to herself. Then, louder, she continued, “Am I now presentable for human society?”

            “Uh, yeah.” He walked around her awkwardly, giving her a wide berth. “Let me just…put my shoes on.”

            She followed him to his front door and watched as he put his worn sneakers on, cocking her head to the right slightly as he simply pulled them instead of untying them.

            “Surely that is not how you are supposed to do it…,” she murmured.

            He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend, not my mom.”

            She scowled a little. “Some friends can be motherly, can they not?”

            “Whatever, let’s just go,” he sighed, pulling his leather jacket on, pocketing his keys and opening the door. “I’m starved.”

* * *

            As Soul stood in line at the fast food place he tried to smother his grin a little. As soon as they had left his apartment block, Maka had been looking everywhere she could, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaping, trying to take everything in at once. She reminded him faintly of dogs going for a walk in an unfamiliar place or a child going somewhere for the first time.

            It was adorable really.

            He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to look down at Maka (given that she was an apparently high ranking demon, it was also kinda hilarious that she was short) in question.

            “The food here smells unhealthy,” she hissed, eyes darting from his face to the counter he was nearly at. “Why do it you eat it?”

            “Because it tastes good and it’s cheap,” he said simply, shrugging a little.

            She nodded though she did not seem convinced. He turned back to face the counter, wondering which one would finish first, the haggled mother with a screaming child or the old man who did not seem to be able to work the pin machine.

            He felt another tug on his sleeve and he looked back at her again.

            “Could I also try this food?” she asked quietly.

            He grinned. “Sure. Do you wanna pick or do you want me to pick for you?”

            She stared at the menu above the counter, squinting slightly in concentration. “Maybe….maybe you should pick for me.”

            “Cool, whatever.”

            When he was finally at the counter, he ordered and then took to watching Maka’s face as they waited for their food to be prepared.

            Her eyes darted every which way, trying to take in all the different sights. He was pretty sure he also sure her ears twitching slightly, but then he probably imagined that. Then, once their food was on a tray and had been paid for, he found them a table to sit at and dished out their meals.

            He felt his lips quirk up when she looked at the box the burger came in in confusion and watched her poke it gently before taking mercy and opening it for her.

            As he began to eat, he felt her watch him. He looked up from his food and raised an eyebrow. “You going to eat that, or did I just waste my money?”

            She jumped a little and then pouted, before copying the way he picked up his bun and took a tentative bite of her own. Soul watched her chew and swallow with a wry smile.

            “Good?” he asked when she only looked into the distance thoughtfully.

            “I can taste all the fat,” she said simply. “This cannot be good for human consumption.”

            He hid a laugh behind a choke as he caught a group of teenagers turn to look at her in the corner of his eye and shook his head.

            “It’s not.” At her rather alarmed look, he shrugged. “But only if you eat it every day, which I don’t. But it’s a good treat every now and then.” When she only eyed the burger in her hand he added, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it.”

            She squeaked a little and took another bite. She held her fingers in front of her mouth as she chewed before saying, “No, no, I will eat it, since you were generous enough to purchase it for me.”

            He was almost tempted to ask how she would have gotten one otherwise, but he kept his snark to himself. He was amused enough that the teenagers kept glancing over at them as their conversation continued. Especially when Maka nearly threw her drink against the window when she felt the fizz of it.

            As they ate, Maka asked him various questions about the restaurant, and the things that occurred outside the restaurant window. He did his best to answer all of them, but sometimes she was only left with a ‘I don’t know, I’ll google it when we get back’ as his best answer.

            These answers then led onto him trying to explain the internet and then computers, phones, and electricity. (He was slightly glad the group of teenagers had left by that point, he would not have been able to keep a straight face if he had seen their reaction to her not knowing what the internet was).

            After nearly an hour spent in the burger place, he walked around the block with her, pointing out cars and motorbikes and other forms of transport, before they returned to his apartment.

            He offered to show her his laptop, the internet, _and_ his TV, but before he could finish his offer, Maka held up her hand to quiet him.

            “As much as I would enjoy learning more about your human life, and rest assured, I truly would, I must return to Hell,” she said, giving him a sad little smile. “But I will return again in a few days, and perhaps you may show me then?”

            He felt his previous nervousness return as he shrugged and ruffled his hair. “If you’re still interested when you come back, then I’d love to.”

            She grinned and her clothes shifted back into her black dress, helped by the same smoke as earlier, before she snapped her fingers again and disappeared.

            Once the smoke from her vanishing trick dissipated, Soul sighed and turned around to head back to his piano, stretching his arms over his head as he went. He still needed to work on that piece, and Maka’s words still rang in his ears.

            Did her compliments count if she was not actually human? He tried not to think too hard about it.


	3. Chapter 3

            Over the next four months, Maka became a normal part of Soul’s life. Though, she was more like a cat than an ordinary friend, she came and went as she pleased, sometimes she appeared every day for a week, sometimes weeks went by before she appeared back in his living room with a puff of smoke.

            After one of her longer absences, he decided it was about time that he introduced her to the human activity of ‘going to the movies’. They had been out plenty of times since he had bound her to him but he had never taken her to the cinema, keeping to cheap restaurants, the park and the occasional grocery store. He was a broke student after all.

            “We’re going to see a horror movie,” he announced as he shrugged on his leather jacket and pulled out the gloves stuffed in its pockets. Maka had already learned to appear dressed in ordinary human clothes and had long stopped wearing the fancy black dress around him. “Though it’ll probably make you laugh more than a comedy or whatever.”

            “Will they be like your movies?” she asked, glancing over at his movie collection as he pulled his boots on, hopping about a little.

            “Uhh, not...really? Most of mine are vintage, the one we’ll see will have better special effects and acting and stuff,” he said, avoiding her gaze awkwardly as he tightened the boot laces.

            “Ah, yes, you are a ‘hipster’, aren’t you,” she teased with a smile and he scoffed.

            “Should’ve never taught you human slang,” he grumbled though a smile tugged at his lips.

            Just as he was about to open the door he turned to look at her and grimaced. “Wait, you’ll need to wear a scarf or something, it’s really freaking cold today.”

            He moved to his coat hooks to look for the scarf his mother had sent him for Christmas (the only thing she had sent aside from a brief ‘you should visit’ note that he ignored) even as she argued against it.

            “I am naturally warm, Soul, I do not need a scarf or gloves.”

            “Yeah, but you’ll look weird without it. You already give off a weird supernatural vibe, don’t need you to gain more attention.”

            She sighed and took the scarf when he held it out to her winding it around her neck in the same way that he wore his.

            “This good?” she asked in exasperation and he nearly laughed at how human-teenagery she sounded.

            He grinned cheekily and gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect for a demon lady. Now, let’s go, the showing’s in twenty minutes.”

            The walk itself to the movie theatre (thankfully only about ten minutes away from his apartment) was pretty uneventful. Maka had become mostly disinterested in the city landscape around his home. It was at the cinema however that he came across a familiar face.

            “Hey, Soul!” Kilik called from where he was standing to the side with a young boy, waving him over.

            Soul forced a grin and waved back. Kilik had not met Maka yet and vice versa, since Soul had the unique skill of being able to avoid people he knew outside of the places he knew them. However, eye contact had been made this time, and it could not be avoided. With a hand at Maka’s back, he steered her towards where the other man was standing.

            “Hi Kilik,” he said stiffly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked down at the young boy standing next to his colleague and nodded in greeting. He met Kilik’s eyes again and tacked on, “How’re you?”

            Kilik shrugged with an easy grin. “I’m good. I mean, this cold weather sucks, but it’s sucked for the last couple of months, ‘s nothing much I can do about that. At least spring’s coming though, right?”

            Soul could see Kilik’s eyes move from his face to Maka and then back to him, easy grin morphing into something more sly, but before he could say something embarrassing, the young boy at his side tugged on his sleeve.

            “What is it?” Kilik asked, looking down at the boy.

            “Can we get popcorn this time?” the boy asked in a little whine, latching onto the older male’s arm.

            A young girl, looking about the same age as the boy suddenly appeared at the man’s other side, also latching onto his arm.

            “Can we, Killy, can we can we can we? Pleaseeeeeeeee?” she said, hugging his arm.

            Kilik’s expression became firm as he shook his head. “Not today, guys, we just had dinner.”

            The two kids pouted, almost in synch and started tugging on his arms as they groaned, loudly.

            Kilik only laughed and shook his head, turning his attention back to Soul. Soul raised an eyebrow in question.

            “Aidan and Tama,” the darker man said in explanation, nodding to first the boy, then the girl. “The annoying kids I’ve told you about.”

            Soul hummed and nodded in understanding.

            “But—” Kilik continued, smirking now “—I don’t think you’ve told me about your friend.” The other man very obviously nodded at Maka.

            “Uh, this is Maka?” He even cringed a little as the statement came out as an awkward question.

            “We met in the library,” Maka added, grinning brightly. “Nice to meet you.”

            “Nice to meet you too, Maka,” Kilik said, extending his hand for her to shake after pulling it from the grip of his brother. “I’m Kilik, one of Soul’s colleagues.”

            Maka opened her mouth to say something but Soul interrupted her before she could say anything inhuman and make Kilik question his sanity more than usual.

            “So, what movie are you here to see?” he asked.

            Kilik gave him a pointed look but said pleasantly, “We’re here to see the new Marvel movie, they’re both into superheroes and stuff.”

            “I like Iron Man the best,” Tama said in a giggly voice. “He’s so cool and smart.”

            “And I like Captain America,” Aidan said, grinning with a slightly gappy smile. “He’s so brave.”

            “What are you guys here to see?” Kilik asked in return, glancing between them mischievously. “That new rom-com? Or that romantic tragedy? Eh?”

            “We’re here to see a horror movie,” Maka supplied happily. “I do not particularly enjoy romantic comedies, they seem extremely repetitive. Horror movies are at least varied in their attempts to horrify or terrify people, even if they do not succeed most of the time.”

            She kept grinning, the little demon weirdo, even as Kilik raised an eyebrow.

            “So, I’m guessing you don’t scare easily,” he said.

            “That’s right.”

            Her beaming smile was almost enough to make Soul laugh but he kept it to a controlled twitch of the lips.

            “Well, we need to go get our tickets, it was nice see you Kilik, see you at work,” he said in a rush, before grabbing Maka and steering her away towards the front counter.

            Maka threw a wave over her shoulder which Kilik returned cheerfully, seemingly no longer bothered by her weirdness.

            Soul mumbled a couple of cursed under his breath. He was gonna get hell from the other man, fuck, he was not looking forward to it.

            However, he was mostly able to forget about his inevitable death-by-teasing once they got their seats and the movie started. Maka was not afraid to criticise the movie, though she did keep her voice down, thankfully. Since the movie they were watching consisted of a demon possession and an exorcism, she had quite a lot to say on the matter.

            “Only lower demons would degrade themselves by forcing a host to become contorted like that,” she hissed. “And they’re the ones who wouldn’t be able to cause that much damage to the house, this is completely unrealistic.”

            He merely grinned as he munched on his popcorn. Normally the jump scares might have gotten to him, but with Maka’s constant stream of complaints, even that did not get to him.

            “Just enjoy it, don’t focus on the flaws,” he whispered, though he was grinning too much to really be taken seriously.

            He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop his guffaws when she pouted and ‘humpfed’, crossing her arms and all. It was made all the funnier when he remembered that she was supposed to be someone important in hell, given that she looked like a sulking child.

* * *

            A week later however, this new sense of normalcy was disrupted.

            It had been a normal (or what he now considered normal) Saturday evening. He and Maka had been lounging on his couch, him with an x-box controller and her with a book. He would glance at her every so often to make sure she was not making that adorably pouty confused face due to the humanness of the book. It definitely was not because he sort of liked to look at her anyway. Definitely not.

            There was a loud bang and smoke suddenly filled his living room. He just about burst out of his skin and let out an uncool yelp, dropping his controller and curling up into a ball on the couch.

            The smoke swirled and then cleared, leaving three what looked to be teenage girls standing in the middle of his hall; a blonde, a brunette, and one with black hair. They all had horns and tails and wore varying styles of black dresses.

            Soul blinked at them, about to yell something along the lines “who the fuck are you” but he only got so far as opening his mouth before Maka jumped to her feet. She began to yell at the three presumably-demon girls in that sharp language of hers.

            The girls seemed to cower before her but the black-haired one, a demon that did not look much older than sixteen, with her hair done up in pigtails, was pushed forward and began to hesitantly argue with her. This went on for a while and eventually the other demon girls joined in.

            Finally Maka held up her hand and the demon girls fell silent. She sighed deeply and seemed to almost deflate a little. She mumbled something in demon language tiredly before forcing herself to stand up straight. With a snap of her fingers she changed into an outfit he had never seen before.

            It reminded him faintly of the black dress she had worn after he had summoned her but it was armour instead of fabric. Her sleeves were chainmail, with black braces tied to her forearms and tight-fitting gloves on her hands. She had a chest plate that started at her neck and finished at her waist, where a belt was securely tied and the ‘skirt’ part of her armour began. The skirt was made of many strips of black metal, the top layer reached half way down her thighs, the bottom layers went to just below her knees. Under the skirt were a pair of black what-looked-like-leather boots that went up her shins and more chainmail.

            Under her arm she held a helmet, made of the same black metal as her body armour. Her hair was no longer loose but tied back in what looked like a braid, though he could not quite see from the front. In a word, she looked domineering, her mere presence demanded attention.

            “I must leave,” she said, startling him out of his thoughts. “I am needed in Hell.”

            “What are you needed for?” he asked before he could stop himself. It was a stupid question, she was wearing armour, it was obvious what she was needed for.

            She smirked a little and shrugged a shoulder. “There is a powerful demon causing mischief for my Lord and as his right hand, it is my duty to see to the rogue.” With that she slipped the helmet onto her head and held her hand out to her side.

            Black mist appeared, like it was coming out of her hand, and morphed into a pole with a sharp, curved blade at the end. A scythe. Decorated with gold furnishing as the top and something that almost looked like a large eye, like her it commanded respect by simply existing. The blade itself was red and black, gleaming in the afternoon sun that came through his living room windows.

            “Uh, OK then,” he said lamely, unable to take his eyes off the weapon.

            “I do not know when I will return,” Maka continued, voice dragging his eyes from her weapon to her face, or at least the part of her face he could see with the helmet on, it had a bit that covered her forehead and nose. “But it will probably not be for some time. Wait for me?”

            He nodded and swallowed dryly. “Of course.”

            She smiled and nodded in return. “Good.” Then she looked over to the demon girls and told them something before returning her attention to him. “My apprentices will look after you until I am back. It is unlikely the Heretic and his—” she spat something in demon language then, teeth gritting as she spoke “—will come to this realm but I would rather be reassured than regretful.”

            And with that she turned and walked two steps before being consumed by smoke and disappearing. He stared at the place she had been, mind running blank for a moment. Then his gaze slowly moved to the three demon girls standing to the side, huddled together and watching him just as warily as he was watching them.

            They started hissing to each other in their demon tongue before falling silent. Eventually the blonde one puffed herself up and stepped forward.

            “So, you are the mortal my Mistress is bound to now?” she asked in a strange, almost Russian, accent.

            “I…guess?” Soul replied awkwardly.

            She nodded and steeled herself again, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “And are you a…real commoner?”

            He blinked at her in confusion, face scrunched up slightly. “Wait, what?”


	4. Chapter 4

            After their bizarre introduction, Soul learned Maka’s apprentices’ names. The black haired girl who first argued with Maka was Tsugumi, the blonde one with the ‘commoner’ obsession was Anya, and the last one, the brunette, was Meme.

            Frankly, they were a bunch of weirdos, which should not have been surprising considering they were not exactly human, but they meant well.

            They mostly took turns watching him, but sometimes paired up and occasionally all three of them watched him. They very obviously took their baby-sitting job seriously; though he did not see them, he could feel them watching him whenever he left the apartment. At first it put him on edge, but eventually he brushed it off, just praying that Maka would come back soon so the being watched feeling would stop.

            Speaking of Maka, he actually really missed her. A week without her had been fine, he was sort of used to that. Two weeks felt weird. Three weeks sucked. Once the fourth week finished and the first month without her was over, he just felt damn lonely. He must have looked it too because Kilik commented on it.

            “What’s up with you? You look more shit than usual.”

            Soul scoffed as he fiddled with the cash register while Kilik leaned against the counter. “Gee, _thanks_.”

            “I’m serious,” Kilik said. Soul looked up and met his concerned gaze. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping well. Have you been sleeping _at all_?”

            Soul stopped for a moment and tried to swallow dryly. “Not…really. Like, I’m sleeping, but it feels restless truthfully. Lotta nightmares.”

            “Have you talked to people about it? Y’know that’s good for you, right?” They were both silent for a moment. “Have you talked to Maka about it?”

            Soul was silent for a very long moment.

            “…Are you still with Maka?” Kilik eventually asked.

            “We aren’t dating.” He shut the cashier drawer closed with slightly more force than necessary.

            “Aw, man, I’m sorry,” the other man said quietly, coming closer and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Break-ups are tough. She looked like she really liked you.”

            Soul sighed and shook his head. “Nah, we were never dating. I told you that.”

            “Well, is she still around? You might not be with her but you two were still pretty friendly, she’d probably be willing to listen.”

            Soul walked into the back to write the money in the shop log book and Kilik followed him.

            “She’s, uh….” Soul trailed off. He could not exactly tell the truth about it without sounding crazy. “She from the west coast, and had to go back because of a family emergency.” Thank fuck he had become good at telling lies, even if most of them were to himself. “She’s not sure when she’s coming back and I don’t wanna burden her with it.” Yeah, that was why, not because he physically could not contact her, and that, even if he could, he did not particularly want to talk to her about all the shit his head cooked up to torture him with at night.

            “Oh,” Kilik said simply. Then, he continued with a little forced cheer, “Well, uh, tell her I’ll keep her family in my thoughts when you next speak to her. You _are_ speaking and calling her, right?”

            Soul nodded distractedly. “Duh.”

            The darker man nodded approvingly and clapped him on the back. “Good. And, hey, who knows? Maybe you being there for her will means she’d there for you, if y’know what I mean.”

            “Piss off,” Soul snarled, though it was accompanied by too much laughing to really be menacing as Kilik waggled his eyebrows at him.

            Soul tried not to think too much about the latest absence in his life (he had way too many of those to only be nearing twenty) for the rest of the day.

            That evening though, he found himself sitting the couch, cradling his computer on his lap, and staring at the contacts in his skype account. No one was online (well, technically, since Liz always had hers on ‘away’ or ‘do not disturb’ it was hard to tell).

            Just as he was about to sign out and start dinner though, the little sign next to the name ‘THE GREAT GOD BLACK STAR’ turned green.

            Soul froze and stared at it.

            His heart thumped in his chest. Before he could think too much about it, he clicked the video call button on the account and waited for his friend to answer the call. He took a deep breath and slumped back into the couch cushions, trying to pretend that he could not heard his pulse in his ears.

            The screen became filled with his friend’s face (complete with bits of his bright blue hair), who was far too close to his webcam, as he boomed, “About fuckin’ time you called me, you ignorant pleb, I was about to call you myself!”

            Soul force his mouth to contort into a grin. “Nice to see you too, Blake.”

            Blake’s smile fell and he leaned back from the camera, face scrunched up as he appraised his friend. After a moment of silence he leaned closer in again and said gently, “Dude, what’s happened?”

            Soul bit the inside of his cheek. The point of this call was that he was finally going to spill his guts to his friend, but now that he was face to face (more or less) with one of his oldest buddies, he felt his throat close up.

            He coughed and shook his head, giving in to his fear. “Nothin’ man, just wanted to check in.”

            Blake did not look convinced. “Bro. Soul. Remember what my mom said. You gotta talk about the shit in your head, or you’ll drown in it. I might not know all the stuff she does, but I know she’s tellin’ the truth.”

            Soul scoffed. “Jesus, I call to ask about how your studies are going and I get the shrink talk. If I wanted that I’d call your parents.”

            Blake was silent again. “You’ve been getting night terrors again, haven’t you.”

            He had not even phrased it as a question, it was a statement. Soul stiffened for a moment before nodding jerkily.

            “’s not a big deal,” he added in a mutter. He took a deep breath. “I had them long before…Wes died. And I’ll probably have them for the rest of my life. It’s just a thing.”

            Blake shook his head. “We both know they got worse when your brother passed. _And_ they get worse when shit stresses you. So, c’mon, tell me what’s been bothering you.”

            “Can we not and say we did,” Soul mumbled, looking to the side so he would not have to see his friend’s concerned face. “Tell me how Japan’s been.”

            Blake waved a hand dismissively. “Food’s good, sake’s good, girls are good, study’s good, but that’s not important. Stop dodging and answer my question.”

            Soul looked back at his friend and scowled. “I’d rather not.”

            “ _Soul_.”

            He snarled. “I don’t have to answer anything if I don’t want to, so stop bugging me!”

            Blake leaned back and crossed his arms. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll send my parents to investigate. You know they will. I give the word and my mom’s there like a shot to psychoanalyze the shit out of you.”

            Soul groaned and threw his hands up in defeat. “Fuckin’ _fine_ ,” he spat. “There was a friend who I got used to hanging out with, but now she’s gone and I’ll feeling lonely and pathetic. _There_ , that’s it, I’m a lame piece of shit who can’t handle abandonment, just like everybody already fucking knew! Can we just drop it already?”

            He very nearly hid his face in a pillow when he saw the pure look of sympathy on Blake’s face.

            “Dude, I’m sorry,” Blake said softly. “Break-ups suck—”

            “We weren’t dating.” Soul sighed and rubbed his face. “She was just my friend.” After a moment he added, “A very good friend.”

            Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you. You look like you need a hug.”

            Soul let out a little bark of laughter than ended in him biting his tongue to try and stop the sting in his eyes. “Probably do,” he mumbled and blinked the moisture from his eyes. “I’m a train-wreck, huh?”

            Blake snorted. “No, dumbass. You’re still grieving, which is per-fucking-fectly understandable, OK? And you’re not a lame piece of shit, you’re a human being with issues, just like everyone else. God, I _should_ call my mom, I’m not good with this counselling shit.”

            With a sigh and a shake of his head, Soul said, “Nah, you’re alright. Thanks, for shit-talking sense into me.”

            Blake shrugged with a lop-sided grin. “What are friends for?” His grin became slightly smaller. “You should call Liz, she’ll be able to give you a proper pep talk, and she’s close enough to give you a hug without spending hundreds of dollars on air travel.”

            Soul nodded. “I’ll do that.”

            Blake’s grin grew again. “Good.”

            There was a noise from behind Blake that Soul could not quite hear, and he watched his friend turn to the side and shout something in Japanese. Someone must have called back because Blake pouted and turned back to him.

            “Sorry man, but I gotta go now. Promise you’ll call Liz?”

            Soul smiled, a little sadly, but held up his fist, pinky finger extended up. “Promise.”

            “Sweet, talk to you later!”

            “See ya.”

            The video feed cut off and Soul was left looking at Blake’s user icon. He sighed and sent a small message to Liz before he exited the programme, closing his laptop afterwards.

            He fought the empty feeling rising in his chest, before listening to the empty feeling in his stomach and rising to go make himself dinner.

* * *

            A month after his emotional skype call to Blake (and multiple messages from Liz, they unfortunately kept missing each other for a video chat), Soul was procrastinating on his homework by playing video games when a new train of thought occurred to him.

            “Hey,” he called over to Anya who sat at the breakfast bar, leafing through an encyclopaedia on animals he had borrowed from the library for Maka a while back.

            She looked up and blinked at him in surprise. “Yes?”

            “I never asked but, what does it mean when you say you’re Maka’s ‘apprentices’?” he asked, pausing his game and looking over to her.

            The blonde sat up a little straighter and smiled. “It means that myself and the others help our Mistress with running her realm and occasionally taking care of her business when is she out working for our High Lord. It also means we can sometimes accompany her on her work and give her assistance there too.” Then she looked off into the distance dreamily. “Once we have complete our apprenticeship, we can work as mercenaries for our High Lord and earn our own realms.”

            “Sounds…nice?” he offered, scratching the back of his neck.

            The demon girl hummed. “It is sometimes dangerous and tedious but it is very rewarding. If I had not taken the apprenticeship I would not have met the two loves of my soul and I would probably not have such a generous or thoughtful mistress. I am very lucky, I think.”

            Soul nodded in understanding. It sounded crazy and scary but that seemed to be the way demons worked. He had been a little bit surprised when he realized that the three demon girls were not just friends, but lovers when he saw Tsugumi kiss first Meme, then Anya before leaving, but then he supposed he should not have been. Since knowing Maka, his perception of ‘normal’ had shifted dramatically and what would have shocked him and left him flabbergasted nowadays barely prompted him to raise an eyebrow. It was a…nice way to live, he had to say.

            “So, Maka would’ve been an apprentice before becoming the leading demon she is today?” Soul said nonchalantly, as though he did not want to try and find out as much about Maka as he could.

            “Yes, indeed, but that was many, many centuries ago,” Anya said, starting to leaf through her book again. “It was long before I was created.”

            “Wait, centuries?” Soul nearly exclaimed.

            “Well, I suppose it will be going on a millennia soon, but my Mistress doesn’t like talking about her age much, she says it reminds her too much of time past and things lost,” she said with a shrug.

            “How long do demons live?”

            Anya looked back up from her book to meet his poorly concealed concern.

            “We can live for hundreds of thousands of years. Some of us believe we can live forever, but just get ourselves killed before we have a chance,” Anya explained.

            “Sooo…Maka is actually pretty young for a demon?”

            She nodded. “It’s one of the reasons she is so highly respected in Hell, because she is so powerful at such a young age. She is a truly incredible demon, though she would say it was because of her partner. She is modest like that.”

            “Her…partner?” he asked. Maka had never mentioned a partner before, he assumed she ruled her slice of hell all by herself. He guessed he was wrong.

            Anya’s smile faded a little. “Yes, most demons have a partner—or partners—of some sort, though some do not. My Mistress did have a partner when she was still an apprentice and for a short while when she first began to rule her realm, but she does not speak of him.” Her voice lowered till he could barely hear her. “He died taking a blow for her and according to Lady Tsubaki, it nearly drove her to madness.”

            Soul watched her in silence for a moment before opening his mouth to ask more questions but the demon girl cut him off.

            “But it is not my place to speak of my Mistress’ past,” she said and hurriedly opened her book again. She damn well near hid behind it as she continued, “And besides, I do not know that much, my Mistress is a very private being.”

            He watched the demon girl for a long moment, wondering whether he should say anything more, before he turned back to his game, unpausing it and continuing where he left off.

            He resolved to ask Maka about it when she returned. Whenever that would be.

* * *

            It was another two lonely months before Maka came back.

            She entered in her typical demon fashion, when a flash and bang, appearing in the living room while he was in the kitchen making a sandwich. Soul had gotten so used to it that he did not even jump anymore and had gotten so used to the girls coming and going that he did not even turn around.

            “So, how’s Hell today?” he asked in a bored voice as he slathered a piece of bread in peanut butter.

            “It is far more peaceful now, thank you for asking,” Maka answered, amused, as she entered the kitchen, laughing outright when he whipped round to face her.

            He stared at her for a moment before lunging at her and pulling her into a bear hug, pulling her off her feet and swinging her around slightly. He laughed with her and felt the tense knot in his chest loosen as she wrapped her arms around his neck in return. Her hair smelled like sulphur and smoke when he buried his face in her neck, trying to smother his grin.

            Fuck, he had missed her more than he thought.

            Eventually though, he put her down and took a step back, giving her some space as he leaned against the kitchen counter top. They stood there for a moment, appraising each other.

            She seemed to look at the circles under his eyes while he looked at her tired eyes and the…scar running down her cheek.

            “What happened?” he whispered as he came closer again, brushing a finger lightly against the pink skin at the side of her face, near her hairline and easy to miss if she had her hair down instead of in the pigtails it was.

            She almost shivered at his touch and leaned into it. “I lost my helmet in battle,” she murmured. “The Rogue aimed a blow at me and I barely dodged. But I am fine, I have many scars, this one doesn’t even hurt.”

            They stayed like that for a long second more before he quickly pulled his hand back and stuffed it in a pocket of his jeans. He cleared his throat and ignored the strange ache in his heart. No, not his heart, his soul.

            “So, you got your guy?” he asked awkwardly, avoiding her intense gaze until it softened in a pleased smile.

            She clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. “Yes we ‘got’ him, though it was a lengthy battle. His head now hangs in my Lord’s most secure dungeon, where no one will ever find him.”

            Soul nodded along with her and moved back to making his sandwich, trying to claw back that sense of normalcy they had effortlessly cultivated before. But his heart was beating too fast and he felt too awkward. It was like meeting a friend after years of no contact, he knew she had changed and had no idea what to say to her.

            Thankfully though, it seemed that she registered the awkwardness and looked away.

            “So, how have you been faring in my absence?” she asked

            He shrugged and stuck the sandwich together, carelessly chucking it onto a plate before moving to the living room to sit on his couch. “I’ve been good, I guess. Just pretty bored.”

            “No new friends?” she teased as she joined him on the couch. “What about a romantic partner?”

            His gaze cut to her suddenly, that last bit had been way too forced to be teasing. He wanted to call her on it but she tensed when their eyes met and in mercy, he did not push it.

            Instead he scoffed. “I had to summon a demon to be my friend, you think I make friends easily?”

            He tore into his sandwich, already regretting his words because they had come out too harsh, too bitter. It sounded like he was mad at her and he could tell by the slumping of her shoulders that she thought that too. He sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he swallowed the mouthful of food.

            “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to be an asshole.”

            “The girls said you were lonely,” she murmured quietly. “Why didn’t you try to reach out to someone?”

            “Because the people I reach out to, leave,” he said through his gritted teeth. He did not want to talk about it, could already feel the pain well up in his chest. “Can we not talk about my social inadequacies?”

            She looked shocked, he could see it in her periphery. “Soul,” she breathed and reached out to him.

            “Please, Maka,” he bit out. “Can we just…not?”

            He avoided her eyes and looked down at his food. His hands were shaking. There was silence for a moment before Maka’s hand came to gently rest on his shoulder and squeeze for a brief moment.

            “OK,” she said in a whisper. “OK.”

            “Thank you.” He said it with sincerity and made himself look up into her eyes.

            There was pity there, he expected that, but there was also sadness. His pain made her sad and it surprised him. Despite their contract, Maka had no obligation to actually feel compassion for him. For a demon, she really was way too nice.

            “Uh, so—” he said and cleared his throat, blinking away the stupid moisture that had built up in the corners of his eyes. “What was the battle like?”

            Maka continued to stare at him for a moment before she backed off, leaning away from him and against the other end of the couch.

            “Bloody,” she said simply. “We lost many demons, both on the side of my Lord and the Rogue. But all wars are like that I suppose.”

            “Did you get in on the main action?” he tried to tease but it came out stiff.

            She regarded him and her smile became smug. “I did. I was able to assist my Lord in incapacitating and decapitating the Rogue.” Then her smile dropped. “But then…”

            He waited for to continued, but she did not. “And then…?”

            She took a deep breath and tipped her head back against the couch. “There was another, a demon who was not helping the Rogue, but was also not helping us. We call this demon the Unholy Child. They assisted in dispatching the Rogue but as soon as that was done, they turned on us.” She closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest. “It was so much like before,” she said in a whisper.

            “So, you fought with this demon before?”

            She rolled her head so she was looking at him. “Yes, I suppose you…” Then she huffed a laugh through her nose and shook her head, looking away from him again. “The Unholy Child was a companion of mine once, a friend. But they betrayed me and my Lord’s father, the previous Lord Death. They have a death order hanging over their head.”

            Soul watched the sadness on her face and thought back to the conversation he had had with Anya. “Was the Unholy Child…your partner?”

            Maka’s head snapped round to look at him, eyes wide with horror. “No! Never!” Her outburst made him flinch back and she curled up tighter, face smoothing into a more controlled expression. She looked swamped by the over-sized human clothing she wore, which actually looked a lot like some of his stuff, but he ignored that in favour of watching her face.

            “No, they were just my friend. When I knew them, their name was…Crona. My partner was someone else, someone I was much closer to.” Her lips curled up in a tiny smile and she glanced at him. “His name was Soul as well, but he was Eater, not Evans.”

            “O-oh,” he stammered, feeling his cheeks heat for an unknown reason. “What happened to him?”

            “The Unholy Child’s mother corrupted them, forced them to do terrible things. The previous Lord Death told Soul— _my_ Soul and I to go reap their soul and bring it to him. We sought them out, fought them and…” Maka took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. Her voice shook slightly as she continued, “the Unholy Child used their cursed powers to pull my partner’s soul straight from his scythe form when he tried to protect me. Our very souls were connected at the time, as is customary for partners. I felt him die and it…”

            She did not have to continue for him to understand how that must have felt like.

            “Maka,” he murmured and reached a hand out for her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He felt bad now, he had asked her to open up without opening up himself.

            She shook her head and looked up at him, obviously forcing a smile. “It’s okay, it was many centuries ago and time has helped me heal.”

            In a way, he envied her for that, that she had the time to get over the loss of a loved one. Soul was not sure he would ever get over Wes, it still felt too raw.

            “So, uh.” He cleared his throat and retracted his hand. “What happened to the Unholy Child?”

            Her lips became a hard line and she looked away again, staring off into the distance. “We fought but they got away with the help of their cursed mother. We searched all of Hell for them but we could not find them. I fear…” she trailed off, wrapping her arms around her drawn up knees and clenching fistfuls of her sweatshirt sleeves in her fists. “I fear they may have escaped to this realm.”

            “Oh,” was all Soul could think to say. That was…slightly terrifying, to think that some crazy demon murderer was running around his…world, he guessed.

            “My Lord wants me to try and seek out the Unholy Child while I am above ground, for I have the ability to see and read souls. So, I’m afraid that while I may be with you, I may be sleeping or ‘spaced out’ as you call it as I try to search for them,” Maka said hesitantly. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I can do that elsewhere, but I must do it somewhere in this realm and your abode is probably the safest place for me to do that.”

            “Yeah, I mean, whatever you need to do,” he shrugged. “You’re free to do whatever I guess. ‘s not like I’ll be doing much nowadays anyway, finals are coming up and I need to study ‘n’ shit.”

            She looked at him curiously and he realized she probably did not know what he meant by ‘finals’ but she moved on before she let herself question it.

            “Thank you,” she said and smiled at him, warm and genuine.

            He found himself smiling back without much control. “It’s cool. And, hey, I like having you around, so win-win.”

            Her smile brightened and her fists on her arms relaxed.

            “Cool,” she breathed and he almost could not stop himself from laughing.


	5. Chapter 5

            Maka began staying over nearly all the time, only leaving for a couple of hours on Sunday to report back to her apprentices before reappearing in his home. It took a little getting used to, he had been used to feeling like he was only having her over for a couple of hours and now it felt like she had moved in. It was a bit of a shock to the system if he was being honest.

            For the first few weeks, she slept on the couch, cuddled up in one of his less-ratty blankets, despite the fact that he repeatedly offered her his bed so he would be on the couch. She pointedly refused each time, saying that she had slept on far worse than his couch.

            That changed when he had one of his night terrors.

            He had had them since he was a child, they had declined in frequency once he had reached thirteen but after _that_ April, they had come back again with a vengeance.

            Even though he was sleeping, Soul always knew when a night terror was about to happen. His dreams became slightly more lucid and his ‘dream limbs’ felt heavier, like they were weighted down, or like he was trying to run through water.

            Then he would find himself in a sea of black and that was when the terror would start.

            The water would be pitch black and cold against his skin. But, worse, sometimes it would be less like a liquid and more viscous, like black syrup he was being sucked into. He always started to scream once he realised that thrashing and swimming did no good, he would scream himself hoarse every time.

            And then a disembodied male voice would start mocking him. It was nasally and medium pitched, echoing all around him as he tried to keep his head above water. He would try the scream at the voice for help but every time he tried his mouth would fill with black and he would choke.

            How he woke up varied from occasion to occasion.

            Sometimes he would wake up when he managed to thrash so much he fell off the bed, ripping him from the nightmare jarringly, leaving him disorientated and nauseous. Sometimes the night terror would progress till it ended, when he drowned and then woke up, heaving for breath before rushing off to the bathroom to vomit. When he was younger, he was often awoken by his brother or parents, who had in turn been woken by his screams.

            But since he had moved out, there had been no one to look after him, to pull him from his horror. So, having Maka there really was a godsend.

            He was been choking on the black honey when she woke him and he stared up at her in shock while she watched him in concern. He was distantly aware that he was panting and that his throat was sore from his screaming but he could not care for that when Maka was looking at him with such worry in her eyes.

            “Soul,” she murmured softly, pushing his bangs back from his sweaty forehead and cupping his cheek to brush away the tears leaking from his eyes. “What is wrong? What is it you dream of?”

            He gulped. “I—” was he all was able to say before he had to push her away and bolt for the bathroom, just making it in time to vomit his dinner into the toilette.

            Between heaves he became aware of her standing behind him, wringing her hands slightly as her tail swished in agitation.

            Once he finished puking and started to catch his breath, she spoke.

            “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

            “Get me a glass of water,” he said between pants. “And, uh, a damp washcloth.”

            She nodded and left the room. He could hear her light footsteps in the hallway and he leaned his cheek against the toilette seat. Thank fuck he had cleaned it the day before, the cool plastic felt good on his overheated face. Lethargically, he pulled his sweat-soaked sleep shirt over his head, tossing it into a corner and away from him.

            Maka came back, glass of water in tow, and kneeled in front of him, holding the drink out to him. His hands were shaking as he took it and he started to drink it in sips, knowing the liquid would help his roiling stomach settle. As he did so, Maka took a cloth from the side of the sink and soaked it under the cold water faucet, wringing it out before kneeling in front of him again.

            Hesitantly, she pressed it against his forehead, beginning to wipe the sweat from his face only when he sighed in contentment. Once his face was cleaned she moved onto his shoulders and neck, making Soul close his eyes as the coolness seeped into his skin to wash away the lingering blackness that was not actually there.

            She took a moment to rinse the sweat from the cloth and he took the opportunity to take a large gulp of water. The cloth was pressed back against his forehead again and Soul found himself leaning into her touch. His heart had already slowed considerably and he was now feeling the exhaustion slam into him, making his eyes droop.

            “What happened?” Maka finally said.

            He took a deep breath and reluctantly met her gaze. “A night terror,” he said simply. “’s a really bad nightmare. I get them sometimes. ‘s not big deal.”

            Her eyebrows knit together and she started wiping his face with the cloth again. “It seemed like it was a ‘big deal’. You were screaming and crying, Soul. What is it that frightens you so?”

            He swallowed dryly and took another drink to pull his gaze from hers. Then he shook his head. “I, uh, don’t really like talking about it, you know?”

            She bit her lip but nodded. Then she said, “But if you do ever want to talk, you do know that I will always listen, right?”

            He huffed a little breath through his nose and grinned. “Yeah, I know.” He yawned suddenly and his vision became blearier. “Fuck, I am _so_ tired.”

            “Will you be alright going back to sleep?” Maka asked, finally pulling the cloth away from his face.

            He yawned again and nodded. “Yeah, they normally only happen once a night, so I’ll be fine.” He stifled another yawn and rubbed one of his eyes. “Tomorrow’s not going to be fun, I can tell you now.”

            She still looked concerned. “Would you like me to stay with you, in case you have another one?”

            “Uh…” he trailed off, regarding her for a moment. He was probably too tired to think properly and before he could stop himself, he found himself saying, “Sure, if that’s OK with you?”

            Her shoulders relaxed a little and small smile grew on her face. “Yes, that is alright with me. I would not have suggested it if it were not.”

            He scoffed a little and heaved himself to his feet. “Cool.” Then he shuffled back to his bed, herding Maka out and turning the light off as he went.

            He flopped down on the right side of his bed and gestured vaguely to the other side of the large bed.

            “You can jus’, sleep there if you want. Or whatever,” he said through his pillow. Then he turned over and pulled the bed sheet up to his nose.

            He felt the bed dip next to him and then he was gone, back into the void of sleep, thankfully devoid of seas of black.

* * *

            From then on, Maka took to sleeping next to him, though out of respect (and a weird sense of modesty), Soul gave her her own blanket.

            At first it was strange, trying to go to sleep with someone else in his bed, feeling the unnatural heat radiate off her body and hearing her breathe. But it was…nice.

            It made his heart ache too, she was so close yet so far away, though he did not even know what he would have done if she were closer or even _why_ he wanted her closer. All he knew that there was an ache deep in his heart and soul that he felt would be cured by her closeness.

            He was probably going crazy, which was saying something given that he had a demon lady living with him.

            Of course, she was not with him twenty four seven, he still had classes and work, and she disappeared for a couple of hours every Sunday to ‘tend to business’ in her realm. To make it even weirder, his heart did not ache for her when they were out of each other’s sight, aside from the usual longing for friendly company.

            He supposed the best way to describe was that they were like opposite poles of two magnets. Pull them far enough apart and the attraction was too weak to have any effect. But put them close together, though not touching, their attraction was strong enough to pull them forcefully together. If he had not seen Maka as only a strange friend, he might have said it was hard to keep himself away from her. But he did, so it was not.

            At least it should not have been.

            The couch cuddling probably did not help.

            After he got home from a long day of learning and playing and revising for finals, or a long day of stocking shelves, puttering in the back, and dealing with weird customers, he would make dinner then plop down on the couch and watch bad TV. And normally, Maka would join him, though she would often have a book he borrowed from the local library for her.

            Then, over the course of the evening, they would gradually gravitate towards each other until she was tucked under his arm, which was resting on the back of the couch. It was nice really, he liked to feel the abnormal warmth of her body against his. It was comforting.

            “Are you sure this is OK?” he asked one night, briefly glancing away from the zombie apocalypse show he was watching to meet her almost-luminous green eyes.

            She blinked at him. “Is what OK?”

            “Y’know, you…being here,” he said, waving his hand to gesture around the room.

            She sighed and shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she stared down at her book, though it was closed. “Yes Soul, I am sure it is OK for me to be here with you. As I have told you before, my apprentices are taking care of my business, and you know I only have to return on the Sundays to check their work.”

            She rolled her head back and looked up at him, smile soft. “You do not have to worry, if I have to leave, I will tell you and I will always endeavour to return as soon as I can.”

            He tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach caused by her reassurance, but failed miserably. “Alright,” he said eventually, fighting back the heat in his cheeks as he nodded down at her. “I’ll try not to worry.”

            She grinned brightly and he ruffled her hair, both to get her to laugh and to stop her from looking at him like…like she actually, truly cared about him. It messed his breathing rate up when she did that.

            After a small swatting battle, they settled back down, sinking into the couch cushions. They were both silent for a long while, Maka returning to her book on architecture and Soul to his zombie show.

            However, eventually he felt her gaze fall back on him and he simply looked down with a raised eyebrow.

            When she did not say what she was thinking, he said, “Can I help you?”

            The first warning sign was the pout she gave him.

            The second was that she snuggled slightly closer to him, as though she knew that her mere presence made him as soft as a marshmallow (which he would never admit, but there it was).

            “What?” he asked.

            “You know the assignment you have been working on, on your laptop,” she began.

            He watched her, eyebrow still raised. “…Yeah?” he said, dragging the word out.

            “Would you...” She paused, looking down at her hands for a moment before meeting his gaze with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen (which was impressive given that he doubted the concept of puppy-dog eyes existed in Hell). “Could you it play it for me? Please?”

            He stared at her for a long moment, internally debating on what to do. Eventually he decided he might as well humour her. And his decision had nothing to do with the fact that looking at her face meant he became increasingly at risk to be stuck looking at her lips. Not at all.

            He sighed and pulled his arm off the back of the couch and over her head. “I guess I can.” He caught sight of her massive grin in the corner of his eye and felt his lips lift up in response. “Let me just get my laptop.”

            “OK!” she said enthusiastically, bouncing a little on the couch as he heaved himself to his feet to retrieve his laptop from his room. “I’ll wait here.”

            “Whatever,” he mumbled, trying to regain his cool and pretend he was not stupidly happy that she still cared about his music.

            Less than five minutes later he was back on the couch, laptop sitting in his laptop, signing in as Maka practically vibrated next to him. Drumming his fingers on the keys as he waited for the computer to log on, he tried to smother his laughter as Maka tried—and failed miserably—to calm down.

            “You’re adorable,” he said, shaking his head slightly as he looked up from his screen at her.

            She almost pouted, but then thought about it and shrugged. “I will take that as a compliment,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her and pressing them into the couch cushion she was sitting on as she leaned forward slightly. “Though I suppose demons should not be ‘adorable’.”

            He let himself laugh that time. “I dunno,” he teased. “All the demons I’ve met so far have been pretty adorable, I don’t know what that says about you guys as whole, but there it is.”

            She scoffed. “That is probably because you have not met any older demons.” Her smile faded a little. “Some of them can be truly monstrous.”

            Happy mood falling slightly, Soul bit his lip. When her smile showed no signs of being recovered as she become bogged down in thoughts of her elders, he bumped her shoulder with his, dragging her attention back to him.

            “Well, I’m glad I’m with you then,” he said, smiling softly (which was dumb, it only made her smile softly back, which in turn made his heart do stupid things). “You’re way too nice to be monstrous.”

            However, his words did not have the desired effect. Though her smile had been soft, it had only been a slight one as her eyes looked past him, and her smile dropped immediately at his words. Her lips parted slightly, as though she were about to tell himself something, but she was interrupted by his laptop making a little noise to show that it had finally logged him in.

            Soul glanced at the computer, then back at her, hoping that she would say what she had been thinking, but her attention was on the laptop now and he knew the moment had passed.

            Silence hung between them as he opened his folders and looked for the appropriate file. It took a few seconds to find, then a few moments more for the necessary software to start up, but soon the piece was ready.

            He swallowed dryly and dragged his finger across the mouse-pad so the cursor hovered over the play button. He looked at her and met her gaze.

            “Ready?” he asked, corner of his mouth twitching up slightly, though the ridiculous butterflies in his stomach made his foot want to jiggle.

            She grinned, though it almost looked forced, and nodded.

            He clicked the button and settled back into the couch as music sung through the speakers. It was a lot like his other creations, full of clashing chords and dissonance, but this was…softer, dare he say it. His professor had commented on it the last time he had showed it to her.

            As the music played, his gaze moved, slowly from the screen to Maka’s face. She looked entranced by the music, as well as the visuals on the programme he used. The tension in his chest faded and he relaxed at little. He had been worried, obviously, about her not liking it, partly because he was worried about _everyone_ not liking his music but aslo…because…she had inspired him.

            The dissonance was softer because _she_ was soft, made _him_ softer. The G note featured more prominently in this piece because the G note was _her_ and he wanted to bring more of her into his music, and therefore into his _soul_. It was stupid, and sappy, and, god forbid, _romantic_ , but it was true.

            He wanted more of her, more _from_ her, than he had at the moment. And he would not have been lying if he had said the idea frightened him. It might have even been an understatement.

            Finally, the music finished and silence fell again in his little living room. At some point (probably while he had been getting his laptop) Maka must have muted the TV, because the light from it still caused colours to flicker on the walls but no sound accompanied it. It felt quite surreal if he was being honest.

            “So,” he said, dragging the ‘o’ sound out as he lowered the laptop screen so it was not fully open, but not quite closed. “What did you think?”

            Her grin was bright and unwavering when he looked up at her from his laptop. “It was amazing!” she exclaimed. “I love it! It’s so haunting and emotional, I feel—” she cut herself off to take a breath and look away from his gaze, turning her hand as she tried to think of what to say. “I feel like the music was touching my very _soul_.” She looked back at him and he was taken aback when he saw how glossy her eyes had become. “It was beautiful, thank you for sharing it with me.”

            He put the laptop on the coffee table and scooted a little closer to her, opening his arms so she could lean against his chest. When she did, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rubbed her back, running his fingers through her hair a little.

            “So, uh, happy tears?” he said, hesitantly, unsure as to whether she would _actually_ cry or if she would regain control of her emotions.

            “Yes,” she said with a small, wobbling laugh against his chest. “Happy tears.”

            He lay his head on top of her, careful of her horns, and continued to rub her back, hoping it would help her not cry, even it was from happiness (though that still seemed weird and made him slightly uncomfortable).

            They stayed like that for a while, until she finally pushed gently against his chest so he would let her go. Her eyes were clear of tears when their gazes met and he matched her grin.

            “So, do all demons have shitty taste in music, or is that just you?” he teased, laughing when she smacked his arm.

            “Shut up Soul, it was good, don’t ruin it,” she said, though her voice was far too warm to be chastising.

            “Yeah, well—“

            What he had been about to say was lost as a familiar ringtone came from the laptop. He blinked in surprise as Maka’s eyes widened dramatically.

            “Why is it making that noise?” she asked as he pulled the gadget back into his lap.

            He opened the lid fully again and sighed when he saw the name in the caller ID. He turned to Maka and said, “You might want to go to bed now, this is going to take a while.”

            She met his gaze steadily before nodding and rising from the couch. As the moved round the back of it, she squeezed his shoulder.

            “Good night Soul,” she murmured.

            “Night.”

            Then he turned his attention back to the computer and clicked the little video button on the skype ‘incoming call’ box.

            It took a second form the feed to clear and the sound to come through but when it did, Soul slouched back into the couch cushions and grinned.

            “Hi Blake.”


	6. Chapter 6

            A month later Soul found himself standing outside his apartment block, waiting for his friend’s taxi to arrive. Due to the lack of a car, he had been unable to meet his friend at the airport, given that his motorbike would not have been able to handle all of Blake’s shit. Just as Soul was about to give up and go back inside to wait by the window, he saw a taxi approach in the corner of his eye.

            He waited at the curb as it pulled up and felt a grin tug the corners of his lips up as a young man with bright-blue hair opened the door and nearly shot out of it and at him.

            “Yo! Soul!”

            “Hey Blake, it’s good to see you,” Soul said, pulling his hands out of his jean pockets so he could hold his arms open.

            Blake grinned and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him into a stereotypical manly bear hug, complete with back slapping that was hard enough to hurt, _damn_.

            “It’s good to see you too, you shark-toothed bastard,” Blake laughed after he let him pull away. “Now, be a good disciple and help your god get his luggage out of the car, eh?”

            Soul shook his head and laughed. “I can’t believe you’re still holding onto that joke, you lame-o.” But he walked with his friend to the trunk and helped retrieve his suitcases.

            “By the way,” Blake said once they were inside the block and waiting for the elevator, “My parents were wondering if you wanted to come visit this summer, if you were going to visit your folks at all.” When Soul gave him a look he added, “Even if you don’t want to see your parents, our door is always open, you know that.”

            Soul shrugged. “I’ll think about it, and see if I can get some time off work.”

            “Sweet,” Blake said, and punched him in the shoulder lightly.

            The elevator dinged when it arrived and the door opened. Soul shuffled in after his friend and hit the button with his elbow, hands already full with bags. The ride up was silent, but Soul could feel Blake glancing at him every few moments.

            It was only once they were in the hall-way and making their way towards Soul’s door that he spoke up.

            “So, this _friend_ that’s living with you, she’s nice?”

            Soul nearly scoffed, Blake had never been good at acting nonchalant about _anything_.

            “Well, yeah. I mean, she hits me with books sometimes, but that’s technically only when I’m being an ass, so it’s whatever,” he said. He almost scoffed at himself, he was just as shit at small talk.

            Blake made a thoughtful humming noise and nodded. “Hot?”

            “ _Dude_.”

            Blake laughed and knocked his shoulder against Soul’s just as they reached his door. “Kidding, kidding, you know I would never go for your girl. I take the bro code seriously.”

            Soul sighed as he got the door open, holding it open with his foot as Blake trailed in after him. He dumped the bags in his hands next to the shoe rack and watched his friend survey his apartment.

            “Not too bad,” Blake said, looking over his shoulder and grinning at his host. “I’m guessing I’m taking the couch?”

            Soul was about to reply when Maka popped up from behind the kitchen counter, smiling and waving, and attracting Blake’s attention.

            “Hi there, you must be Blake, Soul’s friend!” She beamed and moved out from behind the counter.

            Blake grinned in return and held out his hand. “That’s me. And you must be Maka.”

            Maka nodded and took his hand, shaking it firmly, before taking a step back and clasping her hands behind her.

            Soul stood to the side, feeling incredibly awkward. This was definitely not going to end well.

* * *

            Things did actually seem to go well, at least at first.

            Soul could admit, it was painfully awkward watching Maka and Blake interact for the first few days, given that Maka still had not quite learned to be human and that Blake did not seem to know what to make of her, but after the fifth day, something seemed to click between them.

            Well, it would have been more accurate to say they bonded over a shared aspect of their personalities.

            Violence.

            Blake had admittedly had it coming, he had gotten comfortable enough around her for him to fully show his arrogance and asshole-ish-ness. And it had been driving Maka up the wall, though she had done her best to hide it.

            When Soul had told her she should confront him about it if it was bothering her so much she had snorted and smooshed her face further into used-to-be-his-but-had-been-claimed-as-hers pillow.

            “I can’t do that,” she had mumbled into the pillow, though her eyes had not left his.

            He briefly wondered whether it was comfortable sleeping with her horns out like that (the only time she was able to be in her demon form nowadays was during the night), but he pushed the thought down.

            “Why?” he had asked. His finger twitched as he wanted to tuck the loose strand of ash blonde hanging over her face back behind her ear.

            “He is your friend and he is human. I should be patient and kind with him,” she had replied, finally averting her piercing eyes.

            He had scoffed. “I’m afraid he won’t show you the same courtesy.”

            Then she had simply sighed and rolled over so she was facing away from him, telling him the conversation was over. He had sighed in reply and rolled over too, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

            Then the next morning, after Soul had gone out to get groceries, something must have provoked her to finally smash his head in with a book, because when he came back, arms laden with food, they were both sitting on the couch, deep in discussion about weaponry and martial arts, and Blake was extremely wary of books in Maka’s vicinity after that.

            After Maka and Blake started getting on, Soul could admit that he lulled himself into a false sense of security.

            Soul could also admit that the whole idea of pretending to be dating Maka so that Blake would not question her presence in his apartment had been stupid and ridiculous, but he would have blamed it on the fact that he was maybe-slightly-teeny-tiny-bit attracted to her. And that it had been late when the seed had been planted in his mind by Blake’s teasing about not having a girlfriend and sleep had allowed the dam thing to grow into a messy lie that would obviously come back to bit him in the ass.

            And it did.

            It took Blake two weeks to ask him about his (fake) relationship to Maka. It had been a fairly relaxed day. It was a Sunday, so Maka had ‘gone to do some charity work’ and left Soul and Blake alone for some bonding time. And it was while Soul had been making some pancakes from store-bough mixture that Blake had sprung the question.

            “What’s the actual deal between you and pigtails?”

            Soul had almost wanted to snicker at the nickname Blake had given the demon woman based on her favourite hair style, but the question itself caught him off guard.

            He looked over his shoulder at his friend and raised an eyebrow, pausing in his mixing for a moment. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean—” Blake stopped himself and put his hands on his hips, glaring at Soul. “I mean are you actually dating her or is she bumming it because she doesn’t have a place of her own?”

            Soul scrunched up his eyebrows to try and feign confusion, and maybe even outrage, even as his stomach started to drop to his feet.

            “Why would I let her stay here if we weren’t dating? You know I don’t like free-loaders,” he said, turning back to the bowl of pancake mix in front of him. “Why are you even asking me about this?”

            “I’ve been here two weeks and I haven’t even seen you guys kiss _once_ ,” Blake said, louder than necessary, but Soul could excuse that as just being _Blake_. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve even seen you _cuddle_. And I _know_ how much of a cuddle-whore you are!”

            Soul whipped around and growled slightly. “Shut up. And so what if we don’t do that in front of you? Maka’s a private person, and hell, so am I! I don’t have to _prove_ my relationship to you, my word should be enough for you, _friend_.”

            Blake’s face darkened but he put up his hands placatingly and took a step back. “Chill man, I’m just trying to look out for you. You’re like my brother, I don’t want you to get into any nasty shit with anyone, alright? Sorry for prying or whatever.”

            Soul took a deep breath through his nose and let it back out harshly. “Whatever, y’know. It’s whatever,” he muttered and turned back again to the pancake mix, though his appetite had vanished along with his good mood.

            “Just tell me something, OK, just one thing,” Blake offered from behind. “Answer this and I’ll back off.”

            “What?”

            Blake was quiet for a moment and Soul was about to turn and snap at him when he finally spoke up. “She isn’t holding anything over your head is she? Like, I know you’ve had shit with drugs and stuff, she isn’t trying to use that against you, is she? She’s not trying to hurt you?”

            Soul sighed and almost laughed again. He shook his head. “No man. She isn’t holding anything over me and she isn’t trying to hurt me. She’s too good to do that.”

            A warm hand fell on his shoulder and Soul turned his head to look at Blake.

            “You’d tell me if anything did happen, right?” Blake asked. His eyes were just as piercing as Maka’s, which was slightly scary given that he did not have supernatural powers to make them like that. “You’d tell _someone_ at least, yeah?”

            He swallowed and nodded. “Of course, I’m not that much of an idiot.”

            Blake scoffed and took his hand away from his shoulder only to smack him on the back.

            “Whatever you say man. But that’s good to hear.”

            Then Blake stretched his arms above his head and meandered back into the living room.

            “Tell me when those pancakes are ready, will you Shark Boy? Your god is getting hungry.”

            This time Soul allowed himself to laugh and finally refocus his attention on the pancake mix. He would have to talk to Maka about affectionate displays, he did _not_ want to explain her true relation to him. That would be so much more awkward than trying to make Blake believe they were dating, and at least this way was less likely to lead him to question his own sanity.

* * *

            Things seemed to go well for a week and two days after that. Maka had actually been totally fine with displays of affection, though he kept it mostly limited to cuddling and kisses on the cheek, which she easily returned. Through interaction with Blake as well, it seemed like Maka was learning to become more human.

            Her use of slang increased and she started using more contractions. She even seemed to gain a bit of a twang to her voice.

            But then unexpected shit happened again.

            The particular evening it happened on had started out benignly enough. Soul and Blake had played a few rounds of a racing game on Blake’s x-box while Maka sat curled up with a book on Soul’s lap. Then they had started watching a movie, Maka still curled up against Soul, though she had discarded her book, and it was _nice_.

            Then there was a clap of thunder, a swirl of smoke and then Meme was left standing in the middle of the living room, on top of the coffee table.

            Blake yelped and jumped so hard he managed to propel himself over the back of the couch. Maka jumped slightly at the unexpected sound but then her face scrunched up with displeasure as soon as she recognised her apprentice. And Soul?

            Soul’s stomach had just about fallen out of his ass.

            “What?” Maka snapped, when Meme simply stood there, though she did not move out of his embrace.

            The demon girl started as though she had been snapped out of a trace and bowed like a reflex. She said something to Maka in demon language so quickly that Soul was sure that even if he _did_ understand the strange tongue, he would not have understood what the girl had said.

            Maka sighed and—reluctantly?—stood, before turning to Soul with a regretful look on her face. “I am needed in my realm.” Her gaze flicked to Blake who was watching her and Meme from behind the couch for a moment, before meeting his eyes again. “Will you be OK with him?”

            He shrugged and held his hands up helplessly. “Probably not, but there’s no helping it, right?” Her face darkened for a moment and he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, he had not meant to worry her. “It’s fine, go do your thing. Just, come back in a couple of days, OK?”

            She nodded. “I swear.”

            Then she turned and walked over to Meme, grabbing the girl by the wrist and snapping her fingers. They both disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Soul and Blake in silence aside from the sounds from the TV.

            “Dude,” Soul heard his friend shout-whisper. “What the _fuck_?!”

            Soul made a grumbley-groaning sound and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

            “I just watched a girl with fucking _horns_ appear in your living room, then _disappear_ with your girlfriend. I think I’ll believe anything right now.” Blake vaulted over the couch and stood in front of him, seeming slightly wary of taking a seat.  “So, tell me.”

            Soul looked up at his blue-haired friend and stared at him for a long moment. Eventually he said simply, “Maka’s a demon.”

            Blake’s eyebrows scrunched together and his lips were pressed into a thin line. “I’m guessing you don’t mean in the metaphorical sense.”

            “Not at all.”

            Blake tipped his head back and breathed out loudly through his nose. Then he flopped down on the couch beside Soul. “Well, _shit_.”

            Soul looked away from his friend and stared at the wall over the TV. “Yep.”

            They sat there, neither saying anything, but neither paying attention to the TV or anything else. At some point, Soul reached for the remote that was on the coffee table and switched the damn thing off. Then they were left in resounding silence.

            “Soooooo,” Blake began, dragging the word out for an impossibly long time. “How exactly did you end dating a demon? Or was I right about her not being your girlfriend?”

            “She’s not my girlfriend,” Soul stated. “Just my friend.” He laughed dryly. “That’s actually why she’s here. I got drunk and high a year ago and summoned her. I sold my soul so she would be my friend for five years.” He laughed a little louder, though still just as dry. “It’s so fucked up, isn’t it?”

            Blake laughed a little too, but it was hollow. “No shit.”

            They fell silent again.

            “What do you mean by you ‘sold your soul’?” the blue-haired man asked after a while. “Like, are you technically dead now?”

            Soul shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I don’t think I’m dead, but, y’know, I might be. I think I’ll definitely be dead after the five years are up.” He blinked as he realized what that really meant. “Shit, I’ve got four years left to live.”

            Blake smacked his shoulder, then grabbed in a firm grip and shook him. “Shut up idiot, you’re not going to die in four years.” Soul looks at him and meets his fiery gaze. “I’m not going to let you die young and cool, and leave me to grow old and lame. Have you tried asking your demon about maybe not taking your soul?”

            Soul looks away again and shakes his head. “No, I—I didn’t even really think about it.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, suddenly the future seemed a lot more terrifying. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed.

            Blake made a throaty, helpless noise and squeezed his shoulder. “Well I guess there’s no use worrying about it right now. She said she’d be back soon, right? Do you know if she means later tonight, or tomorrow, or what?”

            Soul waved his hands about, just as helpless as his friend. “I don’t know, it varies. Sometimes she’s away a couple of days, sometimes it’s weeks, sometimes it’s _months_. I just—I don’t know.”

            He saw Blake’s lips press together in a thin line in his periphery and heard him hum. “Well, it’s whatever. You still got four years left anyway, right? So you have plenty of time to wait for her to come back.” Blake grinned, but it looked forced. “Ergo, we should chill.” He put his feet up on the coffee table and relaxed back into the couch cushions. “Put the film back on, it’ll help take your mind of this shit.”

            Soul stared at him. “You’re being way too calm after finding out that your best friend is rooming with a demon who owns his soul, you know that?”

            Blake merely guffawed. “Bitch please, I can handle anything, that’s why I’m a god. And let’s be real, you’ve always been a weirdo with a decent helping of strange fetishes, being into demons actually seems pretty normal for you.” He laughed harder at the look on his friend’s face. “So I’m used to your weirdness. I’m desensitized to it.” His grin became slightly crooked. “I guess I almost expected to tell me you were into some really kinky shit at some point.”

            Soul spluttered and grabbed a pillow with the intention of suffocating his so-called friend before he could make any more comments. Unfortunately, Blake had taken martial arts classes from an early age and easily dodged, and then soundly thrashed him in a pillow fight.

            Thankfully, Maka was back by the following day, appearing in kitchen at about dinner time.

            Blake and Soul had both been sitting at the dinner table, eating incredibly unhealthy take-away when she appeared. Blake jumped again while Soul merely stared at her, one eyebrow cocked and bored expression simply saying ‘I am so not amused with you’. Or at least he hoped it did.

            She walked towards the table, once again dressed in her original black dress, high heels clicking on the floor.

            “Hello again,” she said softly. She looked at Soul and gestured at a chair. “May I sit?”

            “Be my guest,” he shrugged, refusing to watch her move, instead focusing on his food that he had kind of lost his appetite for.

            Maka tucked the skirt of her dress under her as she sat, and then folded her hands calmly in her lap, gaze flicking between to the two men sitting with her.

            “So,” she said, glancing down at the grain in the wooden table before raising her eyes again to meet Soul’s.

            He held her gaze for a long moment, before looking at Blake, who in turn had not taken his eyes off Maka since she had entered the building.

            “Show him the thing,” Soul said eventually, waving dismissively at her with his fork, doing his level best to appear emotionless and bored, and not like his wanted to go hide or hug, both of which would have been stupid to do.

            “The thing?” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

            “Soul said you have a demon form,” Blake said before Soul could even open his mouth. Maka shot the white-haired man a sharp look and Blake added, “Not like, an _actual_ demon form, but like, horns and shit.”

            Maka turned her attention to the blue-haired man and smoothed her expression into something more accommodating. Soul felt a little tug on his heart that felt painfully—and annoyingly—familiar.

            “Yes, it is true that I possess horns, as well as other traits you humans often associate with being a demon,” Maka explained. “I am guessing that you wish to see them. To prove that I am in fact a demon?”

            Blake snorted. “I think the whole ‘vanishing in a cloud of smoke’ kinda beat it to the punchline. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

            Soul watched the demon woman shrug. “If you wish,” she said.

            The two men watched as little stubs grew on the side of her head, extending and growing into the fully fledged horns that Soul recognised. A tail appeared from behind the chair as well, swaying from the side to side as Maka watched both of them evenly.

            Soul nodded, as if she had asked his opinion and his reply had been ‘it is satisfactory’, and then returned to his food. Or at least he tried to.

            Blake on the other hand seemed rather enthralled.

            “Do you have other things that make you a demon? Like, can you change the colour of your skin, or your eyes? Can you turn into an animal or something?” he asked, words coming out a million miles an hour.

            Maka laughed a little and shook her head. “As far as I know, it is only the presence of my horns and tail that I can control.” Then she brightened, grinning as she sat up taller. “However, I am able to produce a scythe from shadows,” she added proudly.

            Blake grinned and leaned forward. “ _Sweet_. Can I see it?”

            Maka’s expression faltered. She looked at Soul and met his eyes for a moment and her face fell. He was confused and was about to ask what was wrong when she said, “No, I would prefer not to, if you don’t mind. My scythe means a lot to me, and it should really only be used in battle. It would be inappropriate to call it out in my contract’s abode.”

            If her expression had caught him off guard, her wording almost made him flinch.

            “Contract?” he asked before he could stop himself.

            She looked at him, confusion written all over her face.

            “I’m just…a contract?” he continued, forcing all emotion except curiosity out of his voice. But it hurt, more than he wished it could have, to think that she only thought of him as a contract, an _obligation_. He thought they were friends, _at least_.

            Her expression morphed into horror and she reached out to him, squeezing his bicep gently. “No, of course not,” she said softly, insisting. “You’re so much more than that Soul, you know that. Contract, that is just…that is just a technicality. We are bound by a contract, companionship in exchange for your soul, but you mean more than to me.” She swallowed and squeezed his arm again. “So _much_ more.”

            Soul was at a loss as to what to say to that. Had she just—

            “Well, this got real intense real quick,” Blake interrupted, humpfing and crossing his arms as he reclined in his seat. “Warn me next time you guys want to get emotional, I don’t wanna sit here and watch you two get all angsty and shit.”

            Soul did not even have the energy to glare or growl at his friend, still trying to wrap his mind around what Maka had said, well, _implied_. It scared him. It thrilled him. It shocked him.

            So naturally he decided the best thing to do was keep his mouth shut about the whole thing and refuse to question her about what she meant.

            Blake was right, he really was an idiot.

* * *

            Blake stayed for five more days before leaving to stay with his parents for the remainder of the summer vacation.

            On his last day with him, Blake had forced him to play a game of basketball at the local court, like they had as teenagers.

            They played for an hour, talking about meaningless things before Blake brought up what must have been his original reason for getting him alone.

            “So, have you decided if you’re going to go see your parents yet?”

            Ah, yes. _That_ can of worms.

            “Nope,” Soul replied, popping the ‘p’ sound as he tried for a basket.

            The ball bounced off the rim and into Blake’s waiting hands.

            “I know it’s not my place—”

            “You’re right, it kinda really isn’t.”

            “—but you can’t hide away forever. Dude, I know you don’t wanna hear it, but someone’s got to tell you.” Blake stopped dribbling and held the ball, staring at him intently. “Look, I know why you don’t want to go back. The situation’s never been good and yeah, it’s probably gotten worse since…y’know. But it’ll only get worse if you don’t deal with it.” He spun the ball idly on the tip of his middle finger. “It’s like a wound. You ignore it because it hurts, but if you ignore it, it festers and before you know it you’ve got blood poisoning and you’re dead.”

            Soul scowled. “You think I don’t know that?”

            “I know you know.” Blake let the ball slow and fall into his hands. “But knowing isn’t the same as doing. We’re worried about you man, my folks as well as me and the twins. Hell—” he gestured in the vague direction of Soul’s apartment “—shit got so bad you summoned a _demon_ to try and help. Remember when you went through that whole ‘cooler-than-thou’ phase in high school? Wouldn’t the cool thing to do here be facing your demons. And I mean your inner demons, not your literal one, that’d be weird.” Blake paused. “Well, weirder than your thing with her is already, but that’s whatever.”

            Soul made a sound that was started as a sigh and ended up as a groan as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Hurghhhhhh, fine, I’ll fucking call them tonight and see if I can visit next week, fucking happy?”

            “Ecstatic,” Blake deadpanned and tossed the ball at him. “Now, try and get past me, twenty bucks says you can’t.”

            “Fuck you,” Soul snorted.

            He did not get past him. Thank god he had enough sense not to put money on his athletic skills, he would have lost a considerable amount of money, what with all the times his friend tried to encourage him into betting.

            And that night, under the watchful eye of Blake, he called his mother for the first time in nearly two years and asked to stay for a couple of days.

            His mother had sounded both surprised and… _happy_ that he had called, which in turn surprised _him_. Thankfully, his mother had not stayed on the phone long so Soul was able to hung up quite quickly and ignore Blake’s smug smile.

            Cuddling with Maka later helped settle the anxiety that had already started growing in his stomach, though only a little.

            He did not feel ready to go home, but then he wondered if he ever really would. Blake was right though. He had let things get bad already, no sense in letting worsen. And as he stared at Maka’s hair in the dim street light shining through the crack in his curtain, he wondered if maybe she had helped him by simply being there with him, even if she did not know all the details. By simply being there, she helped him stop running.

            And that was when he knew he was fucked.


	7. Chapter 7

            The trip to his parents’ house (or more like _mansion_ ) was actually nicer than he had expected, though the fact that Maka did not come with him (since he had omitted her presence in his life from his phone call with his mom) had been a little bit of a bummer. His father, however, had had to leave for business the day before he arrived and was not expected back until after his planned departure, which was fine with Soul in all honesty. Out of the two of his parents, he got on with his father the least.

            His mother had been kind and welcoming and had actually cried when she saw him, encasing him in a tight hug and blubbering into his shirt about how much she had missed him.

            He would never admit to anyone, but he had cried too, clutching the back of his mother’s dress and holding her tight, for once trying to absorb any and all love from her. Even though he was the one who had never really tried to make contact, he had missed her just as bad as she had missed him, even if he had not realized it.

            And over the course of his stay, he got to know his mom again.

            She was not the cold-hearted, status-hungry, brittle-smiling woman he remembered from his childhood. Wes’ death and his subsequent radio silence had left a great impression on her and she wanted to make up for her parenting errors.

            And Soul had finally been willing to listen.

            That had been about six months ago now, and Soul was finally enjoying a some-what normal relationship with his mother. His father was still frosty at times, but he seemed to be thawing, Soul had actually managed to hear his voice during Christmas break (over the phone of course, engagements arranged a year in advance meant that his parents were not able to have him home for the holidays, which, again, was fine with Soul, he was used to it), though of course his old man had still manage to remove all cheer from his voice.

            It had almost made him laugh at the time, in that ‘same old dad’, affectionately exasperated way.

            As well as making up with his parents, Soul had also finally come to terms with something within himself over the course of that almost-year.

            That he was completely head over heels with his demon friend.

            It was ridiculous and cheesy but he fallen for her like a stupid romance books said, slowly and then all at once.

            He had even seen it coming and yet it had still caught him off guard. He had realized it sometime in late autumn, when they had gone out for a walk and she had walked ahead to look at something, and then turned back to him.

            Her hair had shone golden in the afternoon light, her cheeks had flushed with the chill in the air, and her smile had been positively radiant. And he had nearly been knocked over by the sheer force of his feelings for her, good _god_.

            But he never said anything, merely admired and loved her from a distance. It would not have been fair, she saw him as a friend at the most (even if what she had said during Blake’s stay still rang in his head whenever she made his heart thump erratically in his chest), and to project his feelings on her would probably end in his death.

            However, about half-way through January, he caught the yearly flu and was subsequently stuck in bed for a few days, dealing with all the usual symptoms.

            Maka was worried about him at first and tried to convince him to go to the hospital, and only calmed down once he forced her read about it how often flu went round on the internet.

            Even so, she assigned herself the role of his nurse, giving him medicine and making him magically-prepared (because she could not cook for shit, at least not in a human way) food that would help him feel better, and just generally worrying about him like a mother hen. And he would have been lying if he had said he had not enjoyed being babied by her.

            But, the fact that he enjoyed her attention caused him to slip up.

            Towards the end of his illness, after eating and taking his medicine and being tucking into bed, while drowsy and kind of loopy from the paracetamol, he looked up at her and was blown away.

            “Wowwww,” he breathed. “You are _really_ beautiful.”

            She smiled and brushed his bangs back from his sweaty forehead. “Thank you, Soul. Now, you should go to sleep. You need your energy to fight this infection.”

            He grinned drowsily and leaned into her touch. “You’re so good to me,” he said, practically purring. “I love you so much.”

            She froze for a moment, but he was too far gone to notice, on the precipice of sleep. “A-as a friend, of course.”

            “Nah,” he murmured, letting his eyes droop shut. “More ‘n that.”

            Then his breathing evened out and he was gone, into the depths of sleep, leaving Maka to gape at him and wonder how to deal with his revelation.

            When he woke up the next morning, he felt considerably better. Maka was curled up next to him, as she often was, and his hand was held in hers, fingers intertwined, which was…new, though not unwelcome.

            As he stared at her, drinking her in, his mind wandered to what he had said before he had passed out. And he tensed, heart shuddering in fear as he realized how much he had _fucked up_.

            Just as he was about to freak out, Maka stirred beside him, reminding him that she was still _there_ , so…maybe he had not fucked up as much as he feared?

            Her eyes fluttered open and he was entranced by their wonderful colour, as always.

            He opened his mouth to say something, though he was not sure what he would say exactly, probably something along the lines of ‘good morning please don’t kill me for having a big mouth’ but he was stopped by her leaning in towards his face and pressing her lips to the corner of his.

            She pulled away slightly afterwards and he was left gaping.

            “Wha—”

            He was interrupted again, but this time by her lips against his completely.

            She was kissing him _and he was returning the kiss without even thinking about it_.

            It was wonderful and amazing and…gross considering he was still sick.

            He pulled back, though not too far, and whispered, “Maybe we should wait until after I’m better, so you don’t catch this flu. Who knows what it’d be like for you.”

            She laughed a little and he felt the sound vibrate _through him_. “Don’t worry, a measely human disease cannot take me down.” Her eyes met his, then flicked down to his lips, and then back up to his eyes again. “We can keep doing this and I’ll be perfectly safe.”

            A grin tugged at his face. “Awesome,” he breathed, and then their lips met again.

            It went great, but she was just beginning to run her tongue over his bottom lip (which was really fucking hot) when he started coughing badly.

            Once Maka gave him the glass of water on the bed side table and he managed to save himself from coughing his lungs out, he said, “Maybe we should wait till I’m better anyway.”

            She nodded. “OK.” Then she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before going to make breakfast.

            Soul leaned back against his headboard and rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to will his heart to stop hammering so hard.

* * *

            A week later and Soul was completely free of the flu. But they had not done any more kissing since that morning, and the overwhelming desire to kiss her, or at least just _hold her_ was killing him.

            It was early evening, after dinner, and they were both sitting on the couch as usual. Soul’s arm was thrown over the back of the couch and Maka was curled up against his chest. She was so _warm_ against his side and the desire for her was curling in his gut so he took a chance.

            He leaned towards her and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, surprising her a little bit. Before she could turn to look at him, he pressed another one to her cheek, and when she finally did turn her head to meet his eyes, he tried to make all his feelings for her pour through them.

            Thankfully she seemed to read him perfectly because then she leaned towards him and pressed her lips against his, hard and desperate.

            Soon, they were not just kissing, but properly making out, grabbing and holding onto each other tightly, pulling each other close, so wonderfully close.

            Somehow she ended up underneath him, humming as their tongues swirled against each other, clutching onto the back of his neck to hold him close. He had absolutely no problem with how things seemed to be going.

            As her tongue played delightful games with his, he cracked his eyes open and watched her face, even though it made him go a little cross-eyed.

            Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, like she wanted to force all the little details about this, about him, about _them,_ into her memory and keep them there. It was hot. _She_ was hot. Without her horns, and with her supernaturally bright eyes closed he could almost pretend she was human, almost pretend that this was totally normal and that they could keep doing this forever.

            Even as he closed his eyes and moaned when she started suckling on his bottom lip, a little voice in the back of his head whispered about how wrong this was. He ignored it. At least until a small hand pushed him back.

            Their lips smacked as they parted and he blinked at her in confusion. Had he done something wrong?

            Then she continued to push him until _he_ was the one on the bottom, leaning against the arm rest, and she was the one on top, settling over his hips wonderfully.

            “Mak—”. Once again he was interrupted by her lips, _and then some_.

            They moaned into each other’s mouths as she ground down against him. They kept going, kept moving against each other, clutching each other close as heat and electricity sparked between them. He wanted to see if they could take it further, turn the heat higher, touch her _everywhere_. From the hand that was travelling up his chest under his sweater and t-shirt, he guessed she did too.

            A loud alarm-like sound went off and they both jumped, almost jumping _apart_. He met her gaze, confused by the disappointed, resigned look on her face.

            “What is it?” he asked, watching as she held up her hand and something flew from the over side of the coffee table into her hand. The alarm noise stopped when it touched her palm and his eyebrows knotted tighter as he failed to understand what was happening. “Maka?”

            “It is something my apprentices had created. Much like the phone you use, it allows them to contact me when I am away from my realm without them having to leave it too to find me,” she explained, holding out her hand to show him a thin, black, square-shaped crystal. The middle had a pulsing red light. “The noise means I am need in Hell.”

            “Aaaaand they couldn’t have used this instead of appearing _before now_?” he said grumpily and slid his arms around her waist.

            She laughed a little at his pouting face. “Unfortunately, it did not exist before Meme’s appearance during Blake’s stay. If it had, we would have used it.” She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now, I really must go.”

            He whined but let her go, allowing her to stand. “This sucks,” he muttered, sinking back down into the couch.

            She hummed. “It really does.” She pressed another kiss to his lips, this one not so chaste (and thus leaving him to watch her in a daze), before straightening and snapping her fingers.

            He sighed in resignation once the smoke had cleared. Their adventure on the couch had left him very wound up and frustrated. He heaved himself to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. A shower looked like the best option.

            A _long_ shower.

* * *

            Soul was woken up later that evening by shuffling by the door to his room. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and caught sight of his demon—girlfriend now? Did demons use the same dating terms as humans? Well, he caught sight of his demon _companion_ coming towards the bed, wearing a long-sleeved pyjama set he did not recognise.

            “You’re back quickly,” he mumbled, turning himself over completely. “Didn’t expect to see you till tomorrow.”

            “I was needed to just look over something quickly,” she whispered and she wormed her way under the covers and snuggled up close to him. “So it did not take long.”

            “Good,” he said, humming a little when she tucked her head under his chin. But he could not go back to sleep immediately. Something felt… _off_ about her, there was some tension in her that was in turn making him uneasy.

            “What’s wrong?” he finally asked, trying to lean away from her enough so that he could see her face, though not so far that he would be trying to get out of her embrace.

            She was quiet for a long moment, refusing to meet his gaze.

            “Maka?”

            She was silent for a few moments longer before finally saying, “I have still not found the Unholy Child.”

            Soul swallowed back his sigh of relief—it would have been _so_ inappropriate—and stroked her hair back. “You’ll get ‘em,” he said. “I know you will.”

            Maka did not say anything else, instead simply pressing her face harder against his chest and jerking her head in a slight nod. He wanted to say more, wanted to find something to say that would make her pain go away, but he could not think of anything.

            Eventually, the tension left her body and she softened against him. He relaxed too and soon fell asleep.

            The next morning he woke up slowly, blinking sleep sand from his eyes and trying to figure out what was tugging at his shirt.

            Once he had cleared his sight, he looked down to find Maka curled up tight against him. She clutched fistfuls of his sleep shirt in her fists and her tail was wrapped around one of his legs. Her legs were intertwines with his as well, for good measure.

            Well, he was not going anywhere soon. He was fine with that and was prepared to shut his eyes and try to go back to sleep when she started twitching in her sleep.

            At first it was faint, just a twitch of her lips towards a frown or a tremble of an eyebrow. Then her whole face started moving, expression becoming concerned, then angry, then _scared_. Her body curled in more, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip on his shit. Her tail was actually beginning to squeeze his leg pretty hard when he started gently shaking her.

            “Maka, wake up. It’s just a dream, just a nightmare,” he murmured, softly stroking her hair back. He shook her a little harder when she did not break from the dream. She started mumbling, expression now looking like pain. “Maka!”

            She flinched awake and stared up at him, gaze uncomprehending at first.

            “Soul,” she murmured, voice thick.

            “Yes, it’s me,” he reassured with a smile. He cupped her cheek when her lower lip trembled suddenly. “I’m here. You’re OK, we’re OK.”

            Her whole jaw jumped and she smushed her face against his chest, hiding away from his gaze as her shoulders started shaking silently.

            He wrapped his arms around her tightly and rubbed her back, constantly reassuring her of his presence and that they were both fine, that everything was fine in low murmurs. Her sobs remained silent, but he could feel the hot moisture of her tears through his shirt.

            Eventually, she calmed and began to breathe easier. She took a shuddering breath and peeled her face away from his shirt, rubbing the wet patch and mumbling an apology.

            “Don’t apologise, idiot,” he said, rubbing her tear tracks away with his thumb. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s perfectly fine to cry.”

            She looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek as she shook her head silently.

            “I promise it’s OK,” he insisted and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

            She sagged against him and let go of the front of his shirt so she could wrap her arms around his torso.

            After a minute of quiet, Soul tentatively asked, “Better?”

            She nodded and with a hoarse voice said, “Yes.”

            “Would you like some breakfast?”

            “Yes.”

            He smiled and pulled the covers back so he could pull them both out of bed. “Let’s go then.”

* * *

            He never asked what her nightmare was about. By the time breakfast was underway, the shadow of it seemed to have lifted from her mind, and Maka was smiling and laughing with him easily and earnestly.

            Part of him remained curious about what scared her and hurt her so much, and part of him wanted to guess that it had something to do with the Unholy Child and her long dead demon partner. Another part still respected her right to privacy though, so he kept silent.

            She had not questioned him about _his_ nightmares, so he would not question her.

            Their relationship grew in the months that followed. They became closer, their interactions became more heated, their occasional bickering now laden with new sexual tension. It was excruciatingly amazing, and he loved it.

            Despite their closeness (even if they had not quite gone ‘all the way’ yet) though, there was still that small nagging voice at the back of Soul’s mind that warned him about becoming too close to her.

            She was demon, and he was human. She might live for forever, and he might live to eighty years old if he was lucky. It was a relationship doomed to fail from the beginning and his heart clenched painfully every time he thought about it.

            So he did his best to ignore it.

            Every time the voice pointed out that they were inescapably different, he would take her out for a normal, _human_ date activity. Every time the voice pointed out that she was centuries old and would continue to live for centuries after him, he would focus on her youthful features. He would caress her soft skin, do his best to make her smile her bright, girlish smile, kiss her till they were grabbing at each other like horny teenagers.

            It was stupid and it was selfish to lie to himself like that, he knew it was. But he could not help himself. He loved her so honestly, wanted her so completely, that he could not help himself.

            Then a different voice, far more sinister than the usual one would point out that thoughts like that made him unworthy of even the most wretched demon. And Maka was more of an angel than a demon, how could he even hope to be worthy of her grace with horrid, possessive, _dark_ thoughts like that.

            He ignored that voice too, though it was slightly harder to do so with that one.

* * *

            Two weeks before spring break, Soul received a surprise call five seconds after he returned home from work.

            Maka was in the kitchen, preparing food he would then cook (she still was not allowed near the stove) and simply waved him towards the phone once he pressed a ‘hello’ kiss to her cheek.

            He did not recognize the caller ID when he picked up the phone.

            “Hello?”

            “ _Well, if it isn’t Soul Rich-Enough-To-Get-A-New-Phone-But-Empty-Headded-Enough-To-Forget-To-Give-His-Friends-His-New-Number Evans. You do realize I had to call **Blake** to get your number, do you understand how cranky he was when I interrupted his ‘godly’ nap?”_

            Soul gaped into the phone. “L-Liz?”

            _“Congrats of the voice recognition, useful skill that,_ ” Liz deadpanned.

            “Wow, uh, long time no see, huh?”

            “ _And **whose** fault is that Mr Avoidance-Is-My-Middle-Name?”_

            Soul spluttered. “Excuse you, I’ve tried to call you on skype but you’re never online!”

            Liz sighed. “ _There’s a thing called a phone genius, coulda used that._ ”

            He grumbled a couple of swearwords under his breath and Liz laughed in his ear. “I’m guessing you’re not calling just to say hello,” he finally muttered. “You always hated small talk.

            She hummed. “ _That is true. I am calling to inform you that you will be spending spring break with your fashionista friends in their new digs, and that you **will**_ _be bringing that pretty little girlfriend of yours_ ,” she said simply. “ _And before you even say it, I know she exists, Blake showed me pics. She looks cute and I want to meet her. According to him, she brains you with a book if you’re an ass?”_

            Soul sighed. “That’s Maka.”

            Liz laughed again. “ _And is she as tiny as Blake said?_ ”

            Soul glanced behind him at his demon girlfriend. “That depends,” he mumbled. “How short did he say she was?”

            “ _Apparently she barely comes up to your chin.”_

            Soul grinned wryly when Maka caught him staring and mouthed ‘what?’

            “Yeah,” he said, hoping that it was just low enough for her not to hear and turned his head away so she could not read his lips either. “She’s a tiny ball of condensed anger management issues.” He flicked his gaze to her for a millisecond. “She’s a little demon.”

            “What did you just say about me?!” Maka snapped from behind, though it was obviously forced and for effect. She was grinning mischievously when he turned around to look at her again.

            Liz sounded like she was wetting herself she was laughing so hard. “ _Was that her?_ ”

            “Yep.”

            “ _You will definitely bring her with you, OK? I will turn you into my new coat project if you don’t.”_

            Soul chuckled. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

            Liz squealed in delight. “ _And you guys are totally staying in our spare bedroom. Our apartment’s great, you’ll love it. It’s so… **rich**_.”

            “You’re crazy,” Soul said affectionately.

            “ _Yeah, well, you, Blake and Patti drove me there. Oh, uh, speaking of which, I need to go meet Patti in ten minutes, I’ll call you later with more deets, m’kay?”_

            Soul waved his hand dismissively even though she could not see him. “Cool.”

            “ _OK, talk to you later, I expect the finer details of your relationship when we talk, bye!_ ”

            The phone clicked and he returned it to its receiver.

            “What are we doing?” Maka asked.

            “Going to New York for spring break apparently,” he answered. “Then you can meet the other half of my crazy childhood friend quartet.”


	8. Chapter 8

            Soul sighed tiredly as he pulled himself out of his new, but crappy, car, rented to make the trip. Four and a half hours in a tin can, only broken up by a single stop to use the toilette and drink coffee. He pushed his hands against his back and arched, hoping to hear a click. God, he hated driving for so long.

            The passenger’s side door opened and Maka climbed out, looking around apartment complex underground parking.

            “This isn’t like your car park,” she murmured as she rounded the car to stand beside him.

            He hummed. “Everything’s stacked on top of each other in New York. Space saving. Metropolis.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Boston’s more spread out.”

            He did not think she quite understood him, but she smiled anyway.

            “Soulieeeeee!” someone yelled form the other side of the car lot.

            He turned just in time see a blur of light blonde rush at him and had the wind knocked out of him as the blur grabbed him in a tight hug, actually managing to pick him up off his feet.

            Soul laughed even as he felt his spine crack under the tight grip. “Hey Patti,” he said, hugging the blur—now obviously a woman—back. “You can let me down now.”

            Patti laughed too, and dropped him, grinning brightly and swaying slightly. “Sissy told me to bring you guys up, she’s on the phone with one of her classmates.” She looked round Soul and waved at Maka, who was standing behind him. “Hi there Soul’s Girlfriend.”

            Maka waved back. “Hi.”

            Soul shook his head with a fond smile. “Maka, this is Patti. Patti, Maka.”

            “Cool,” Patti chirped. “Now, c’ _mon_ , sissy’s dying to see you!”

            He barely had time to grab his suitcases (though technically one was meant for Maka, even if she did not need it) before Patti had grabbed his arm in one hand and Maka’s in the other, and started dragging them towards the lift.

            Patti babbled on happily about what it was like living in her new apartment with her older sister, chirping about interesting neighbours and complaining about annoying ones in a stage whisper to Maka. For her part, Maka seemed to be taking the woman’s vast energy in stride. Soul knew from experience that Patti’s… _enthusiasm_ for life could weird people out.

            Soon enough they were on the right floor and down the corridor and through the front door Patti dragged them towards.

            Another blonde woman poked her head round a doorframe in the hall after the door slammed and waved energetically at Soul before pointing at the phone against her ear and disappearing.

            “Sissy’ll be a second,” Patti supplied when Maka glanced at the both of them. “Her classmate’s _real_ chatty. But she brings cookies when they work together, so it’s all good.” Her face brightened. “You want a cookie? We got ‘em especially.”

            And with that, she dragged Maka into the kitchen to presumable find the afore mentioned cookies. Soul merely sighed and dropped down on to the couch, thankful for the soft seat after so long in a car.

            “You want a coffee Soul?” Patti called from the kitchen.

            “Sure,” was his reply as he let himself sink further into the cushions.

            He heard some mugs clinking against each other and smiled. His eyes drifted shut almost without his permission. Only for a few moments, he told himself.

            Before he knew it, he was being shaken about by Maka, who was standing over him, holding a mug in her hand.

            He grinned. “Hey,” he said softly, gazing up at her with hooded eyes.

            She smiled back. “Do you still want your coffee or do you want to go take a nap for a little bit?”

            “I’m good,” he said, resituating himself on the couch so he was sitting up properly and leaving enough space for Maka to sit next to him comfortably. Once she was sat down, he took the mug from her hands and took a long, satisfying slurp.

            “You two are so fucking adorable,” Patti said, who was sitting on an armchair perpendicular to the couch. “Sissy’s gonna have a _field day_.”

            Soul’s shoulder slumped and he muttered a few colourful words under his breath, which Maka flicked his ear for.

            “Yeah,” Patti continued, looking far too smug. “ _Really_ fucking adorable.”

            “What’s really fucking adorable?”

            Soul turned his head and watched the second blonde, Liz, fall down into the second armchair, opposite the one Patti was in. He glanced at Patti, who grinned evilly at him, and groaned.

            It was going to be a long week, even if deep down, he knew he was going to enjoy it. Mostly.

            When Liz was not cooing and ‘aw’ing loudly about his relationship.

* * *

            Five days later, Soul found himself sitting in a cheap café chair, listening to Liz prattle on to Maka about fashion. While it was sort of obvious that Maka had absolutely no understanding of human fashion trends, he thought it was nice that she still paid attention to the other blonde.

            “And then you tie—oh, hey, Kid!” Liz suddenly started waving at someone behind them.

            As Soul turned round to see who it was, he noticed that Maka’s head had turned so fast it probably would have snapped had she been human.

            A man was approaching them, waving with one hand while the other was tucked in the pocket of his black slacks. He had raven hair that highlighted his rather unusually pale skin.

            “Hello Elizabeth, Patricia,” he said when he came to a stop next to their table, soft smile on his face. He turned to look at Soul and Maka, and his smile became slightly brittle. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before, you are…?”

            “Oh, this is Soul,” Liz supplied before Soul could open his mouth to speak. “We were friends in middle and high school.”

            Soul took the man’s proffered hand and shook it firmly. His hand felt slightly cold, even in the unseasonable warmth New York was enjoying.

            “And this is his girlfriend, Maka,” Liz continued, indicating her.

            A brief beat of silence followed the introduction before the man held out his hand to her as well, which Maka took, smile in place.

            “Guys, this is Mortimer,” Liz said after said man had pulled up a chair next to her.

            “We met Kiddo when we saved him from a muggin’ a couple of weeks back, right sis?” Patti explained, beaming.

            Soul looked at the man, Mortimer, in confusion. “…Kiddo?”

            Mortimer laughed a little. “Ah, yes. I’m technically Mortimer Darte _Junior_ , but my late father hated calling me that, so my nickname as a child was ‘Kid’.” He shrugged, smiling. “It stuck I suppose. Better than being called ‘Morty’, or something equally horrific.”

            Soul nodded but did not say anything. Maka, by his side, remained silent.

* * *

            Mortimer, or Kid as he insisted he be called, stayed with them for the rest of the day, talking easily with Liz and Patti, and eventually with Soul. But Soul soon noticed that Maka did not receive the same openness, though Kid was not so obvious as to be uncivil to her. If Maka were to say something, which she hardly did that day, he would listen, but he would not encourage her conversation like he did Soul’s.

            It made Soul a little angry if he was being honest. Also a lot confused.

            After dinner out, Kid excused himself to go home. Once he was gone, Soul told the sisters that he was heading to bed, claiming a headache, knowing Maka would come with him to make sure he was OK.

            When the door closed behind her, he turned to her and asked the obvious.

            “OK, what’s your deal with Kid, or Mortimer, or whatever?”

            Maka stared at him for a long moment before her shoulders slumped and she seemed to deflate somewhat.

            Now _that_ concerned him. “Maka?”

            She moved past him and sat on the guest bed, shoulders hunched and hands clasped in her lap.

            “Kid is like me, he is not of this world,” she murmured.

            “So, he’s a demon as well?” Soul sat down heavily beside her as realization dawned on him. “Does that mean…Liz and Patti—?”

            “No, no,” she interrupted him and grabbed his arm. “Kid doesn’t deal with contracts, he’s too important in hell to spend time in this realm. Or at least that’s the excuse his father used before…”

            Soul blinked. “Wait, too important? What…?”

            She sighed. “Kid’s my boss. That’s why I was so ‘weird’ with him.” She squeezed his arm. “He doesn’t, well, _didn’t_ know that I spend some much time in this realm. He won’t be pleased. Especially since—” She cut herself off suddenly and bit her lip.

            Soul was quiet for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she did not, he prompted, “Especially since…?”

            Maka laughed a little, but the sound was bitter and broken. “Especially since relationships between humans and demons are not allowed, for the human’s own good.”

            A lump formed in Soul’s throat. “Maka—”

            “I need to go,” she said, standing up suddenly. She barely looked at him when she continued, “I need to explain myself to him. And try and figure something out.”

            He stared at her in silence for a long moment. “OK,” he finally whispered.

            She looked at him and her face softened. She leaned down quickly and gave him a soft peck on the lips before straightening and whispering, “I’ll be back by dawn.”

            She disappeared into smoke just as he reached for her, and she slipped through his fingers.

            He could not help think that maybe he was losing her.

            Swallowing the lump in his throat made of dread and powerlessness, he stripped and wrapped himself up tight in the bed covers. Sleep took a long time to find him as the lump moved from his throat to settle heavily in his stomach.

* * *

            True to her word, Maka was back by dawn. By that time, Soul had exhausted himself and had not woken up when she crawled in beside him to curl up against his chest.

            When he awoke to find her there, he wrapped her up in a hug and crushed her against him.

            She mumbled sleepily against him and he whispered, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

            She stilled for a moment before embracing him back, tucking her head under his chin. “As long as you want me to, I will always come back.”

            “And I’ll always want you to,” he said. “ _Always_.”

            She nuzzled her nose against the point where his neck met his shoulder and said nothing else.

            They spent the day out with the Thompsons, as usual, although Kid joined them again. Soul was now painfully conscious of the other man’s…inhumanness and tried to stamp it down so the sisters would not notice. Thankfully, if they noticed that both him and Maka were off, Kid kept them distracted long enough to forget about it.

            Soul was aware of the little looks Kid kept throwing his and Maka’s intertwined hands and every time it happened, he gave her hand a small squeeze. More often than not, she did not return it.

* * *

            Two painfully quiet days later, Soul was back in Boston. The car ride had been tense, Maka’s silence had put him on an edge that even smooth jazz could not soothe.

            She waited till evening to bring up whatever had been on her mind.

            “Soul,” she called from her place on the couch just as he was about to pass to go take out his frustration on the piano. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Sit with me?”

            Once he was sat beside her, reclining into the cushions while she sat up straight, she took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap. She refused to meet his gaze as she began to speak.

            “Kid is not happy that I have been spending so much time with you,” she began.

            Soul snorted. “No shit.”

            She sighed and shook her head. “Yes, I guess it was rather obvious. But, because he is my Lord and I am sworn to serve him, I must do as he commands. And he has commanded that I see you as little as possible to satisfy the contract.”

            His heart lurched. “And—and how often is that?”

            She took a shuddering breath and licked her lips. “Technically that’s once every six months, but—”

            “Fuck that!” He jumped to his feet, hands fisted at his sides. “What the fuck gives him the right to just do that? I get that he’s your boss, or whatever, but that doesn’t give him the right to—”

            Maka was finally looking at him and she held her hands out in a placating gesture. “Soul, I know, but if you would let me finish—”

            “ _I love you_ ,” he blurted. She blinked, almost taken aback. “I love you,” he repeated, gentler. “And I refuse to let him try and keep us apart.”

            “Soul,” she said softly as she rose to her feet as well. She took a step closer to him and cupped his cheeks. “I love you too, and I won’t let him keep us apart either. I’ll come and see you more often than one every six months, but it won’t be every day like it has been.” Her thumbs brushed his cheeks, just under his eyes, and his gaze could not have moved from hers even if a bomb had exploded just outside his window. “I won’t leave unless you tell me to, remember?”

            He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes with a sigh, placing his hands over hers. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I remember.”

            He heard her swallow thickly. “I-I won’t be able to stay for very long, but I’ll visit as often as I can, OK?” He opened his eyes again to meet her watery green eyes. “It’ll be like the long distance relationships you humans sometimes have.” She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs again. “Just with few sky calls.”

            He huffed a little laugh through his nose. “ _Skype_ calls.”

            She laughed and nodded. “Yes, sorry. _Skype_.”

            They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he leaned down to kiss her. She responded hungrily and before he knew it they were laying on the couch, clutching each other desperately. She kissed him like it was the last time she would ever see him. Even as he kissed her back in the same way, he refused to believe it would be so.

            He _refused_.

* * *

            Maka began to visit less and less, and even then, she only stayed for a few hours, tops.

            At first it was every other day, then every few days, then it was once a week. The sparseness of her visits coupled with the shortness of them tore into his heart. Every time she kissed him goodbye and disappeared into smoke, he was ruthlessly returned to the night everything went to hell in New York, and the feeling that _he was_ _losing her_ hit him forcefully every time.

            Whenever she was over, all they did was hold each other close and kiss over and over and _over_. Things often got heated, and the burning desire deep in his gut to go further, to make love to her with all the desperate, longing passion he felt for her grew to the point where he almost could not take it. But he was too afraid to ask her to go further, afraid that if they crossed that final line he would lose her completely.

            So he did his best to content himself with her brief, burning touches and embraces, did his best to absorb all the love she whispered into his skin as he did his best to return the favours.

            His heart ached every time she left, almost enough for him to want to say _enough_ when she returned, but the _need_ for her would grow to the point where he would be unable to say no to her advances when she came back.

            It was a beautiful, toxic torture. He hated it. But he loved her.

            Eventually he broke though. She stayed away for nearly a fortnight and it was just enough for him to get through what he hoped was the worst of his withdrawal for her.

            She appeared as usual, sitting on his couch so that she was next to him, like she knew he would always be there, waiting for her.

            And _god_ , looking at her, he wanted to be able to always wait for her. But it was getting too much.

            He glanced at her and read her expression. She knew. And she knew he could see that.

            “Soul,” she whispered.

            He took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. “We can’t do this anymore.”

            She sat back, leaning away from him as she moved her gaze to the wall opposite. She nodded. “You’re right. We can’t.”

            “It’s just—it’s not fair,” he said, wanting to explain himself, wanted to explain that while he loved her, loved her _so damn much_ , he could not let himself get into the toxic place they were heading. “T-to both of us.”

            She nodded again and her gaze fell to her lap. “I understand.”

            He clenched his fists on his knees. He wanted to reach for her too, wanted to embrace her and kiss her but he knew it would not help. In fact it would only prolong their pain.

            “I need you to either commit or admit you can’t,” he added hoarsely before he could stop himself. “And I know you can’t.”

            She was on her feet then, clothes changed into her original black dress. The breath was almost knocked out of him. Jesus, she was beautiful.

            She turned slightly so she was looking at him. “I suppose this is goodbye then.”

            He nodded and swallowed. “See you in six months for the required minimum.” He ignored the crack in his voice and blinked back the sting in his eyes.

            Her hands made a strange movement, like they were automatically reaching for him before she stopped herself. She opened her mouth and he half expected, half _hoped_ she was going to tell him that she loved him, at least one last time.

            Then smoke enveloped her and she was gone.

            The silence of his apartment rang painfully in his ears until his own sobs—muffled by a fist shoved into his mouth—filled the space she left behind.

            Later than night he called Blake. When it rang to voicemail he choked into the phone, “I fucked up man, I fucked up, _I fucked up_. She’s gone and I can’t get her back.” He repeated it like a mantra until the message ended.

            He was so drunk he barely noticed. He passed out in his bed and woke up the next morning to a pillow still damp with tears.

* * *

            Summer break arrived and he resigned himself to empty days and nights pining for a girl who was not even human (despite Blake’s insistence that he would pull through it). At least until he received a phone call from his mother.

            Then he spent his time anticipating another home visit.

            At least his mom had promised that his grandma would be there, even if his dad would still be around.

            When he arrived home a week after receiving the call from his mother, he was almost relieved the large house was as imposing and alien as ever. As always, he refused to give up his suitcase to the butler at the door and climbed the wide front stair case alone. He would rather not let anyone see how he still flinched as he passed his older brother’s bedroom door, the room that would never be open again.

            After unpacking he found his mother sitting in the smaller of the two living rooms and welcomed her embrace.

            “Ah, you need a haircut,” she chastised lightly when she pulled back to hold him by his shoulders. “Or else you’ll be able to tie it back in a pony-tail and—”

            “You’ll come cut it all off when I’m sleeping,” he finished for her. He smiled and shook his head fondly. “I know mom.”

            His mother’s beam nearly shocked him with its intensity. “That’s my boy. Your nana’s in the garden, if you want to see her before dinner.”

            He nodded and left his mother to find his grandmother.

            His grandmother was appraising one of his mother’s vast flowerbeds when he found her. Her white hair was up in a bun, just like he remembered from his childhood, and she leaned heavily on her cane.

            She did not jump when he stood beside her and murmured a soft greeting, merely glancing at him with a small smile before returning her attention to the flowers.

            After a few moments of silence she said, “You do no deign to speak to your nana for several years and then do not beg her forgiveness when you finally see her? I thought your father taught you better.”

            Soul laughed and turned to meet her mischievous eyes. “Sorry Nana.”

            She scoffed. “At least give me a hug, Soul, if you’re going to try and apologise.”

            He felt his eyes water when he embraced her, feeling like a little boy all over again as he breathed in her perfume. “I’m so sorry Nana.”

            She pet his hair back and shushed him. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” Then she pushed him back a little and studied him, before smiling softly. “Now, take me over to that bench and tell Nana everything that’s happened. You look far too sad for your age, sweetheart, even with your loss.”

            Soul smiled, a little wobbly, and did as she asked. Talking was difficult at first, but eventually a heavily censored version of events spilled from his lips (along with a few tears from his eyes) in the face of his grandmother’s loving smile.

            Once he was finished and his nana had given him her handkerchief, she gave him her advice.

            “The girl you spoke of seems to mean a great deal to you, yes?” she began. He nodded and she continued. “I understand why you felt it would be best to break it off, it is very hard to maintain relationships when you cannot see each other. But Soul, dear, if you truly care for her, you should persist.”

            He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand for his silence and he closed it again.

            “I know it is hard, and it will feel like your heart may break, but things will change.” Her smile widened and she wrapped one of her hands around his. “And when things change, it will be for the better. Trust me.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “So, when you can, give your girl a phone call and ask for another chance. I’m very sure, from what you told me, she cares as much for you as you do for her, and that she will be more than willing to try.”

            While Soul did not believe his grandmother’s words, he did his best to smile and nod as though he did. Seeming satisfied, she patted his knee and got to her feet, waving for him to follow her for dinner.

* * *

            After a week spent with his parents, during which he finally had a reconciliation, albeit a very tense one, with his father, Soul returned home. The emptiness was still there, but it felt slightly less alien after enduring the emptiness of his vast room in his parent’s house.

            He then spent a week and a half working and trying not to think about what his nana had told him. It was stupid and hopeless, but the idea kept nagging at him. Though he could not call her in the typical way, he could try and summon her again. But then he could also wait the necessary six months to see her again, facing the risk that she might have moved on by then.

            Eventually he caved, and spent several nights trawling google in hopes that he would find the same website he had used nearly three years ago. He found it on his fourth night of searching and noted down all the things he would need, as well as what he would need to say (not only to summon her, but to convince her to say).

            That weekend, he set up what he needed and spoke in the incantation.

            At first nothing happened and Soul felt his heart start to break, but before he could fully resign himself to the feeling, there was a boom of thunder and familiar smoke swirled in the circle of candles he had arranged.

            And there, once the smoke had cleared, stood Maka.

            She looked just as shocked to see him as he felt that it had _worked_ , but he recovered first.

            “Maka, before you do anything, let me speak,” he said in a rush, rising to stand in front of her, hands held out pleadingly. “I need to tell you something.”

            Maka’s mouth opened and shut silently for a few moments. “Soul, I—”

            “ _Please_.”

            She stared at him for a moment before she rolled her shoulders back and nodded. With a wave of her hand the candles flickered out and she watched him expectantly.

            He took a deep breath and began. “I-I know I said that it wouldn’t work. But only seeing you sometimes hurts far less than not seeing you at all. Maka, I…I want to try and make it work, make _us_ work. So please,” he watched her face as he spoke, looking for any hint of what she was feeling, “can I have another chance?”

            Her face softened and she took a tentative step forward. “Soul,” she said softly and took his hand in hers. “Don’t ask for another chance—” he heart stuttered in his chest “—because that makes it sound like you did something wrong, which you didn’t. If anyone should be asking for second chances, it should be me.”

            He felt like he could hardly breathe, he felt hope rising in his chest that he did not dare believe. Her eyes seemed to burn into his.

            “ _I_ was the one who hurt you. _I_ was the one who did wrong.” She took a shuddering breath and broke their gaze, looking down at their clasped hands. “But you were right to break our relationship off, it’s not fair to make you wait for me to come back whenever I can. You deserve to be happy, and I can’t give you that. You never have to see me again, the girls can check in on you instead of me, if you’d prefer, and I—”

            “I don’t care about that,” Soul said, forcing her to look up at him with a hand under her chin. “I can wait, I’m good a waiting. As long as you’re here sometimes, I can do that, I _will_ do that. I was just scared before, scared and tired. But I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to.”

            Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and before he could help himself he was leaning into her touch.

            “What were you scared of?” she asked in a whisper.

            He shrugged a little. “Scared I wasn’t enough, I guess. Scared that if I gave you all I had, you’d leave anyway. People tend to do that to me.”

            She stroked his cheek with her thumb and squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t have done that. I…I _won’t_.”

            He stared at her in awe. “Maka,” he breathed.

            “If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to be with you, I will,” she said resolutely.

            He wrapped his arm around her and pulled into an embrace. “I want that. I want _you_. I love you.”

            He felt warm moisture against his shirt. “I-I love you too,” she replied, voice cracking a little.

            They stood there for a long moment, holding each other and breathing it in. Eventually though, Maka pulled away and sniffed, rubbing the tear tracks on her cheeks away with the back of her gloved hands.

            “I think maybe we should talk some more,” she said, looking up at him with her big, bright eyes. “To help our bond grow again.”

            “Uh, OK.” Soul shrugged. “Whaaaat did you want to talk about?”

            The smile that tugged at her lips grew slightly smaller. “Will you finally be willing to tell me what you mean by people tending to leave you?”

            His shoulders slumped a bit. “Well, it’s kinda a long running theme, I guess. We should sit down for it.” With her hand in his, he led her to the couch.

            Once they were seated, he told her his life story, his inferiority complex with his brother, his brother’s death, his subsequent guilt over the afore-mentioned inferiority complex. How he had only really gotten close to a couple of people in school, who had then left for university, how he had had a hard time believing his parents really cared.

            There were some tears, and he eventually fell asleep on Maka’s shoulder when she pulled him into a hug after he cried himself out.

            In his slumber, he missed her own tears, and though he did not know it, she was glad he did not see it. It would have been nigh on impossible for her to explain without opening up multiple issues that she would rather leave buried till the end of time.


	9. Chapter 9

            Soul was almost thankful for the start of the new academic year in late August. It would be his final year at university and he felt like he had finally gained _true_ enthusiasm for his degree.

            Although, starting the new year meant that he had to go to class and do work, and that meant he could not spend at much time as he wanted with his demon girlfriend, building their relationship back up and then even further than before.

            It had been rough at first. Maka had worried about spending too much time with him and letting her boss catch on to the fact that they had renewed their relationship, and Soul was worried that she would leave again. Thankfully, neither of those things happened. They had created a balance, a wonderful, _beautiful_ balance. The arrangement almost made him laugh.

            Hell got Maka during the week, and he had her on Fridays and weekends.

            To say it was nice would have been a gross understatement. Especially since there was plenty of shared nakedness, something they had been working towards before their break-up and had finally reached in their reconciliation. The thought of it never failed to make a lazy smirk grow on his face.

            Tragically, it did not last very long.

            In the latter half of October, with pumpkins and ghost paper chains decorating every store front, Soul noticed that Maka was steadily growing antsier.

            After a week of watching her fidget distractedly, even under his _careful and loving_ ministrations, he finally broached the subject.

            “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her face when she zoned out while they were watching TV early Saturday afternoon. She jumped and turned to look at him in surprise. “What’s bugging you?”

            Maka looked away and wrung her hands slightly in her lap. Soul waited for her to say something, but she did not.

            “Maka? Come on, we promised we’d be open with each other, remember?” he prompted, scooting closer to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

            She sighed and leaned against him. “It’s silly though,” she murmured.

            He laughed a little pressed a light kiss to her head, wary of the horns she no longer hid. “I vaguely remember a certain demon lady tell me something along the lines of ‘it’s not silly if it bugs you’. So, spill. What’s got your panties in a knot?”

            She slapped his chest lightly with the back of her hand but he saw her smile anyway. She took a deep breath before finally saying, “It’s the Unholy Child.”

            There was silence as he waited for her to elaborate, which she did not. “…And?”

            Her face scrunched up in frustration as she turned to look up at his eyes. “I can’t find them. And that’s giving me a foreboding feeling.”

            Soul ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Maybe they’re not in the human world? Maybe they’re in the demon realm?”

            She shook her head. “No, Kid would have sensed them by now if they were. As the God of Death, he knows all the souls in his realm, though he doesn’t pay attention most of the time, which was how he kept missing my presence. But he would know if Crona was there, the stench of their madness would be too much to ignore for very long, even if their mother’s powers helped them both hide.”

            “Is there, I don’t know, another realm they could be hiding in?” Soul suggested after a moment of silence. “Like, the equivalent of heaven or something?”

            Maka laughed outright at that. “No, there is only Hell and the realm of humans. Heaven is a fantasy made up so that humans would feel better about death.” He gave her a look and her amusement became slightly sheepish. “Sorry, but it is true.”

            She squawked when he pulled one of her pigtails gently, and he laughed.

            “You’re such a _buzzkill_ ,” he teased, and began to poke her face.

            She slapped his hand away and pouted, though that only inspired him to kiss her. Her pout did not last long, and neither did his train of thought as her tongue found its way into his mouth.

            Eventually though, he pulled away so that he could propose the idea he had had _just_ before they had started kissing (although ‘making-out’ would probably be a more appropriate term).

            “Want to go for a walk?” he asked, flushing a little as she raised her eyebrow and reminded him with a firm hand how excited he tended to get at the littlest thing she did. “It might help clear your head?”

            She seemed to ponder it for a moment and he willed himself to calm down and remind himself that he was _not_ fifteen years old anymore and that near spontaneous erections around pretty girls should not be a thing for him anymore.

            Her smile was bright when she made up her mind and said, “I think that would be nice.” Then her smile turned lascivious and her voice took on a velvety purr as she added, “And we can get back to _this_ later.” And there went his attempt to calm down, that little _tease_.

            Ten minutes and three very un-sexy thoughts later, they were wrapped up to protect from the autumn breeze and walking down the street hand in hand.

            It was nice to act like this, Soul thought. He was content, utterly content. He kept glancing at Maka and smiling, occasionally catching her eye and watching her flush under his attention.

            It never ceased to amaze him that _he_ could make her blush. She was a demon, a warrior, and, judging by their antics in his bed, probably a seductress, but a little bit of affection from him had her pinking and grinning like a goof. It anything, it made his pathetic little ego soar, something he probably did not deserve, but whatever.

            After walking in companionable silence for a while, he asked, “So, do you feel a little better?”

            She hummed lowly and shook her head. “I don’t know what it is, but I just feel… _wrong_.”

            They turned a corner, onto a street that was surprisingly empty.

            He sighed and forced a smile. “Hey, maybe you’re finally coming down with the flu. Then you’ll need _me_ to look after you.”

            She gave him a stern look, which he winked at cheekily. When she continued to look at him dryly he sighed and said, “Look, just try to relax, I doubt anything’s gonna—”

            A black blur shot towards Maka, hitting her in the gut and throwing her several yards back, ripping her hand from his grip, the force of it nearly pulling Soul off his feet as well. As it was, he stumbled, disorientated and confused.

            “Maka!” he yelled, moving to run towards her when the black blur, or rather, the tentacle of viscous black smashed into the tarmac in front of him, forcing him to stop and step back.

            Soul turned to their attacker and saw a figure dressed in a long black dress with choppy lilac hair and blank stare. He almost gagged when he realized the black tentacle like mass was coming out of the person’s _wrist_.

            “You must stay out of this,” the figure said in a high, monotone voice. “This is between me and the Avenging Angel. You gave up your right to fight a long time ago, Demon Scythe.”

            “W-what?” he stammered, feeling like the ground was tilting under his feet.

            “Soul!” Maka shouted from behind him and he whipped around to look at her as she got to her feet. “Get out of here! Now!”

            He could not help by gape at her. Leave her, with this-this _thing?_ How could she think he would do that?

            “Listen to your mistress Demon Scythe,” the attacker said as they came closer, blackness from their wrist twisting and turning to form a long black sword on their hand. “This is not your place.”

            Soul kept looking between the two demons—because it was obvious their attacker was not human—in front of him, stumbling back as both of their faces hardened as they stared each other down. Maka’s armour dress appeared around her again and her scythe formed from smoke to glint in the fall light.

            His pulse beat loudly in his own ears as he retreated to press his back against the building behind him. He could not leave Maka on her own, but he could not interfere, he would probably only make things more difficult for her.

            The scythe twirled in her hand as she spoke to the attacker in demon language. The attacker replied, composure cracking as a mad grin grew on their face and they started giggling. They spat something at her and she flinched before her expression became cold and hard.

            Then they were at each other, the clang of metal hitting metal ringing through the air. Maka and their attacker were still for a moment before they started moving, quicker and quicker till it was flurry of movement Soul could barely follow, the clash of their weapons becoming an almost constant noise as they met over and over _and over_. The sheer force of their fight caused cracks to appear in the tarmac beneath their feet.

            Soul wanted to help, he truly did but he could not. He could not fight, he was not fast or strong enough to event try to _distract_ a demon let alone take one down. He felt sick, so helpless, so scared, so _angry_. Angry that he could not help, angry that someone would _dare_ attack Maka like this, angry that they would do it in the human realm, _his_ realm, _his_ city.

            The flurry of the battle between Maka and her attacker continued for another minute before something went wrong. Soul had no idea what it was, whether she had missed a step, or had failed to block an attack, or whatever, but suddenly Maka was crying out in pain and trying to take a few steps back to regroup, but could not.

            The attacker moved with blinding speed and the scythe was ripped form her hands to clutter to the ground several yards away from her, behind the attacker. She stumbled back as the attacker began moving again, it looked like she was barely able to dodge the attacks without something to guard her.

            “Maka!” Soul found himself running towards her, against all rational thought in his brain, because _what could he do?_ He was just a human, how could he help. But that did not stop him.

            She continued to dodge, lightning quick, but moving further and further back, and further and further away from him. “Stay back!” she commanded and he ignored her. “I said _stay back, Soul!_ ”

            Their attacker mumbled something that made Maka snarl, and they laughed. Then they barked out something that sounded like “Ragnarok!” and the black tentacle shot out form their wrist to wrap around Maka’s ankles and pull her to the ground.

            Soul’s legs screamed as he ran to her faster. Their attacker lifted their black sword in the air as the black tentacle grew to surround the whole of Maka’s lower body. He yelled her name and Maka looked up at him, holding out her hand and opening her mouth to tell him to stop but he was already in front of her as the sword came down.

            It burned.

            There was ringing in his ears—it sounded a lot like a scream—as he fell to the ground in two pieces.

            Then he was gone.

* * *

            He woke up slowly, blinking blearily, and tried to move. It felt like his whole body had gone to sleep, his limbs were weighed down and numb. After blinking himself completely awake, he began to work on moving his arms and torso until her was able to push himself up into a sitting position. Which was when he finally took stock of the room he was.

            The room was pitch black and smelled faintly smoky. As he tried to move on the...bed? he was on, his finger came across what felt like ash as the bed sheets crumbled beneath his fingers.

            He took a deep breath and pushed himself towards where he could feel the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side and slowly settling his weight on them. As he stood, he registered that he was naked and that the room, that he could not actually see, was faintly familiar, though he knew he had never been in a room like it before.

            Then the pain came, causing his chest to throb sharply and his head to swim for a moment.

            He flailed his arms out to search for something to hold onto and his fingers brushed again a bed post which he latched onto. He took several deep breaths between clenched teeth and scrunched his eyes shut.

            In time, the pain faded to a dull ache, like a knocked elbow. With one more deep inhale through his mouth and exhale through his nose, he straightened, turning his head in the direction he knew a door was. He did not know how he knew a door was there, he just knew it was there. He chose not to question it.

            Each step jarred his torso and brought fresh rounds of pain but he ignored it, holding his hands out in front of him to the look for the door he strangely remembered but could not quite picture. The tips of his fingers brushed it first and he pressed his hands flat to the wood, patting it down to look for the handle.

            His left hand clasped around the round door knob and turned, pulling the door open slightly. Light spilled through the small crack and he squinted, the sudden brightness, even if it was only a little bit, stung his eyes.

            Slowly his eyes became accustomed and he opened the door a little more, waiting each time the door moved for his eyes to adjust. Eventually the door was open and he moved to stand in the doorway.

            Through it, he could see a room with a chequered tile floor, red drapes hanging from the walls as candles stood upon tall candle sticks that came from the floor to about his chest height. Again, it was familiar, but it still felt like he was looking at the room for the first time. He distantly wondered if it was all a dream, but ignored the feeling as he stepped through the door, ignoring his nakedness as well.

            Clothes materialised around him as he moved through the doorway and he stopped, one foot still out of the new room and one foot in. He blinked as he saw the line where the...suit he was wearing ended and the skin of his right leg began.

            Huh, it was pin-striped, just like he liked.

            “Well, don’t just stand there,” a drawly, nasally voice called. “Come in, don’t let the draft in.”

            He turned and caught sight of a tiny red _thing_ sitting in an arm chair, hands propped under its chin, grinning at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

            Soul eyed him warily as he stepped completely into the room, shivering a little as the last of the suit materialised around him. His chest was throbbing less he noticed and he rubbed it distractedly.

            “It’s about time you showed up,” the red thing—that looked like a little imp from a children’s book—said as it jumped down from the arm chair and sauntered over to a table upon which a gramophone sat. “I was bored to death. You don’t even have any good music here.” It, though it seemed like a _he_ , reached up and settled the player’s needle into the record and soft jazz began to play.

            The imp turned to him and grinned again.

            “So, I suppose you’ll have questions, given that it’s been so long. You always _have_ been a forgetful one,” the imp said in a slightly mocking voice. He heaved himself onto the table and began to swing his feet. “So, ask what you will and I’ll try to answer.”

            Soul blinked at him and took a moment to look around the room. The door he had just come through, and subsequently the room he had been in, were no longer there, replaced by a continuous expanse of the room he was currently in. He turned back to the imp and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

            “Am I dead?” he asked simply.

            The imp chuckled and shook his head. “Not exactly, though you tried harder than usual to kill yourself, which for you is saying something.” The imp sighed tiredly and rubbed his bald red head. “Such an idiot, aren’t you, Soulie boy?”

            Soul scowled slightly. “Where am I?”

            “Now that—” the imp said, looking a little more amused “—is an interesting question. Some would say this is a place that exists in your mind, others would say this is in your soul, a _Soul_ space if you will.” He chuckled at his own little pun. “I suppose, if you were to ask that Death God you were so fond of once upon a time, he’d say it was some manifestation of the madness that still pollutes your soul, but that’s neither here nor there.” The imp waved his hand dismissively. “He, ah, how would you put it? He always had a stick up his ass? It _is_ like you to be so crass, I wonder how she stands it.”

            Soul growled and stomped towards the imp. “What the fuck are you even saying? Who are you talking about?”

            “Oh, I forget, you can’t remember yet, how silly of me,” the imp chuckled, grinning up at him sadistically. “Allow me to shed some light on the situation.” Then the imp snapped his fingers and light erupted behind his eyes.

            Soul cried out and gripped his head, scrunching his eyes shut as he fell to his knees. Images passed under his eye lids, sounds rang in his ears, feelings, thoughts, _memories_ exploded in his mind and it _hurt_ , oh dear _god_ did it hurt. The air was pushed out of him and he wheezed for breath even as he felt like his head would explode.

            Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of pain, the flood of memories slowed till it was a trickle, and then stopped altogether, leaving Soul on the floor of his soul space, gasping for breath.

            “Well, I’m glad you survived, though I’m rather embarrassed for your sake that you cried so much. I’m almost surprised you didn’t wet yourself,” the imp said derisively, looking down at him over his hooked nose. “Congratulations on remembering the last millennia or so.”

            Soul ignored him in favour of catching his breath. He had not even noticed the moisture dripping down his face until the imp had pointed it out and wiped at it with the sleeve of his suit, sniffing a little.

            Everything he had just lear—ah, _remembered_ was still whizzing in his brain and he could hardly make sense of it. He had started out as a demon, Maka’s partner, then he died and been reborn as a human, and then died and been reborn, and then died and been reborn, and so on and so forth for hundreds of years, which should not even be _possible_. So many births, so many deaths, so many _lives_. And all of them—all of them had—

            “Maka,” he breathed and he forced himself to his feet. “Where’s Maka?”

            The imp scoffed. “Ah, yes, _her_. You do realize she broke the law every time she inserted herself into your life? Quite selfish of her might I say, especially since _she_ was the reason you died the first time around.”

            Soul growled and walked over to the imp, picking him up his collar to hold him to his face. He felt a distinct flash of satisfaction when he saw the fear on the imp’s face before Maka came to the forefront of his mind again.

            “Where. Is. She?” he snarled.

            “She’s out in reality, mourning your death again. Probably in the shrine of her fortress,” the imp said, clutching as Soul’s hands so close to his neck. “Now, let’s just take a deep breath and calm down, no need to be so hasty. You’ll see her in the next life, I’m sure.”

            That…that sent a deep pang of pain through his heart. He did not want to wait to see her again, he did not want to have to make _her_ wait to see him again. What if this time she decided not to find him? It was clear now, from the collective memories of her that seeing him but knowing that he did not know her as she knew him broke her heart _over and over_. And Kid—he almost laughed at the thought of his old boss—would know that she would try to see him again, maybe he would try to stop her.

            “But…,” the imp mumbled, dragging Soul’s attention away from his internal agony. “I’m going to be honest with you Soulie, I’m not sure you’re going to be reincarnated again. It’s usually happened by now. You get all your memories back and then _boom_ , you’re coming out of your new mother’s womb and then you forget again.” The imp’s expression became suspicious. “But you’re still here. I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen, or _why_ this is happening, now of all times.”

            Soul raised an eyebrow.

            The imp shrugged and grinned cruelly at him. “I mean, this wouldn’t be the first time you sacrificed yourself to save your little lady, even _since_ starting this whole reincarnation thing.” His face became exasperated. “You’re disgustingly selfless when it comes to her, you know? You’re supposed to be an insanity demon, not some love-sick moron.”

            Soul let go of the imp and let him drop to the ground with a thump. “What are you trying to say?”

            The imp sighed and rubbed his head as he got to his feet. “I mean that I’m not entirely sure what has changed. The way you die isn’t new, the interference of your girl isn’t new. Hell, this isn’t even the first time your boss has found out about that brat’s meddlings. The only thing I can possibly think of is—” The imp stopped himself and froze for a moment, eyes becoming glazed.

            Soul watched him silently for a long few moments before snapping, “What? What can you think of?”

            The imp shivered suddenly and then shook his head. “Never mind, I think your time here is up my boy.” Soul’s heart clenched and the imp gave him a dry look. “Don’t get so worked up, you’re not going to forget again. I have no idea _how_ , though frankly I’m not sure if I care to know, but it seems we’re going to be working together again.” A crazed grin grew on the imp’s face. “I’ll see you in your nightmares Soulie.”

            And then he snapped his fingers again and everything went dark.

* * *

            When he was conscious again, Soul realized his head was pounding. He reached his hands up to massage his temples but the sensation felt… _wrong_. Like his hands were not actually pressing against his head, like they were made of smoke instead of flesh and bone. As his headache slowly began to dim he began to observe his surroundings.

            He was floating in a black void, and he was, once again, naked. The space he was in was neither hot nor cold, it matched his temperature. Again, like his soul space—he felt dry amusement form the back of his mind at that—it was familiar to him, though he could not quite find the memories to tell him what it was.

            Oh, there it was. He was in weapon form, inside a form of limbo he had never quite grasped the concept of, but had never questioned nonetheless.

            As he became acutely aware of his form, he also became aware of the fact that he was lying on the ground and outside was _cold_. And damp. And that he could hear crying, no, _sobbing_ , full on heart wrenching sobs.

            And oh, _oh_ , he could feel her, he could feel _Maka_! Like everything around him now, he knew it was her soul he could feel only because of his old memories and not because of conscious knowledge.

            He wanted to reach out for her, but the force of her sorrow and pain acted like a barrier, keeping everything and everyone out. Even him. And that _hurt_ , though not as much as the thought of her in pain.

            He thought back to the imp’s words, about how she was _mourning for him **again**_. The urge to comfort her was overwhelming, maddeningly so, and it was that that forced him out of his weapon form, made his consciousness tumble from limbo to reality jarringly.

            The floor below him was cold as he lay sprawled. He recognized the ceiling above him from his memories, the paintings of the crypt, though he was not familiar with the designs of this room. _Shrine_ the imp had said. _His_ shrine?

            The sobbing was punctuated by a hiccup and he was wrenched form his thoughts. He turned his head and pushed himself upright (crinkling the same pinstriped suit he had worn in head as he moved) so he could look properly at her, his most beloved one, his Maka.

            She was dressed in a gown version of the black dress he had come to associate with her while he had been human. The skirts of the dress spread out around her as the kneeled in front of his shrine, shoulders shaking as she cried, arms swallowed by the large sleeves. At her side was a veil, and judging by the mess of hair, she must have ripped it off her head at some point.

            In between her sob he caught little snippets of prayers and promises, all in a language he suddenly understood. It felt surreal.

            “I can’t do this anymore,” she suddenly wailed and curled up in on herself. “I can’t do this without you.” Her sobs became more like screams. “I wish I could join you, _I want to join you, I wish I was dead with you_.”

            Soul swallowed dryly and slowly pushed himself to his feet. He did not want to startle her, she had already suffered too much, he did not want to hurt her any more than he already had.

            His shoe scuffed the stone beneath him and she froze before him, making him freeze in place as well. He heard her suck in a deep breath.

            “I said I was not to be disturbed,” she said softly. “Leave me.”

            He swallowed again and despite all the things he wanted to tell her, he could only whisper, “ _Maka_.”

            She whipped round and stared at him in shock that seemed to border on horror. Another sob tore from her throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her face was pale and worn, like she had not been sleeping, and her eyes were bloodshot for obvious reasons. He took a tentative step towards her and she only stared at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

            He continued to move till he was kneeling in front of her. “ _Maka_ ,” he said again, hands hovering as he debated whether he should reach out for her, or wait for her to do so first.

            She choked on his name behind her hand and jerkily reached out for his face. When her palm cupped his cheek he could not help but lean into her touch and that was what broke the damn.

            Maka began sobbing again and she reach out for him with her other hand, touch his face, his shoulder, his chest, his hair. Her hands were gentle and her touch feather-light, like she was afraid he would crumble beneath her hands in she pressed too hard.

            “I’ve gone mad,” she choked and then she laughed hysterically. “I don’t even care, I don’t care at all. Oh, _Soul_.”

            “You’re not mad,” he said insistently, reaching out with his own hands to brush the tears from her cheeks. “I promise you’re not. I’m here, I’m really, _really_ here.” She shook her head and mouthed ‘you can’t be’, and he cupped her chin so her eyes would meet his. “Feel me, feel my soul.” He felt tears prickle his eyes. “I’m here, I’m right here, feel me.”

            He felt her soul brush against his and then she collapsed against him, clutching onto him tightly as her soul rushed to meet his fully. He started crying with her in earnest as he felt all her pain, fear, confusion, and _relief_. His arms around her pulled her as close to him as possible and they held each other as they sobbed into each other’s shoulder.

            “I love you,” he promised against her neck, repeating his oath over and over, even as she began to return it. “I love you.”


	10. Epilogue

            It took a long time for Maka to truly accept that he had returned to her. For several days she insisted she had gone mad, even though others (including Kid and Soul himself) reassured her that Soul was truly there. Even then, it took months for her to stop worrying he would disappear if she took her eyes off him for a single second.

            A dark part of Soul relished in the fact that she cared so much about him that she became practically inseparable from him. The majority of him knew that this was unhealthy, thankfully, and he did his best to help her get over her fear and get better.

            Alongside this, Soul himself needed time to readjust to demon life.

            For several years, there were multiple instances where he was unable to remember something about his first life. Sometimes it was something small, like not knowing there was a step in a dimly lit corridor. Sometimes it was something big, like the grave of the child he and Maka had lost before birth, when they had both been a lot younger and Maka had only just come into her position of power. It was very hard, for both of them, when things like that happened.

            And not only did he sometimes forget things, but for a long time it was hard to think of all he did have memories as _his_.

            When asked about it by Maka, the best way he could think to describe it was that he still felt like he was human, like he was still his latest reincarnation, but put into a different body with memories that felt more like facts and feelings remembered from a film instead of from personal experience. The disconnect was extremely disconcerting

            This often meant his suffered lots of déjà vu like moments early on into his new demon life. Moments that sometimes left him feeling like the ground was tilting below his feet as his brain tried to make sense of the overwhelming amount of information. Thankfully a small hand at his elbow helped him take a breath and figure it out.

            But after several decades had passed, things became normal. Soul felt content to wake up every morning next to his love, and spend the day working with her (even if he hated the paper work that came with running a section of Hell and reaping souls).

            There were some moments, however, when he mourned the loss of his human life, so shortly after setting his relationships right. He had felt the most guilt during his early days as a reborn demon, during the days he felt more like a human than he did a demon. Guilt that he had died on his friends, guilt that he had let his parents lose their second son so shortly after their first.

            But looking over at Maka and being witness to her beaming smile when she caught him looking more than made up for it. Soon the guilt faded, as he felt more like a demon, felt more like the Soul he had once been, he could not find it in himself to regret an act that had saved Maka, and had allowed him to return to her proper.

            Even if no one was quite sure _how_ he had done that.

            When he had first returned, Kid had come to visit him fairly often, asking various questions about his lives in order to try and figure out what had caused him to return to his original form. No concrete answer could be found, but Kid had a variety of theories, mostly revolving around the presence of the Unholy Child.

            “There are lots of things we still do not know about Crona and the powers their mother bestowed on them before they killed her,” Kid had told him one time while they had walked the grounds around Kid’s grand palace in early spring.

            To Soul’s human side’s surprise, Hell was not a raging inferno, but rather, another version of the earth he knew, only populated by demons instead of humans (and set in an era that looked more like ancient Rome or Greece than twenty-first century earth). And because it was like another earth, it had similar seasons.

            “It might have been one of these unknown powers that sent you back to your original body,” Kid continued. “Or it might have been your blood that pulled you back, having spent too long being dormant. Or it might be a mixture of the two, given that Crona had black blood as well.”

            Soul had shrugged. “I’m here now, to be honest I’m not that fussed about how. All I know is that I’m going to do my damnedest to stay.”

            Kid had hummed. “Yes, let’s not tempt fate by letting you die again. Who knows if you will reincarnate again. Or what the effect of your death will have on Maka.” He had given Soul a look he understood.

            There was no doubt that if he were to die again, Maka would not survive losing him, at least with her sanity intact.

            But the same could be said for Soul, if she were to die, he would likely lose his mind as well. That was the main reason he always threw himself in front of her and took every blow that had been meant for her.

            He would do all that he could to ensure that she remained safe, even if that meant giving up his life for her. But now, he had been given the opportunity to make her _happy_ , something he would gladly sacrifice more than his own life for.

            Not that she would let him do that, though. Their love had only just risen from the ashes to start anew, and she was determined to make sure that it stayed alive for many centuries to come, if not forever.

            And, frankly, he was happy to let her do just that.


End file.
